


BETRAYAL

by DiamondJedi



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Betrayal, Break Up, Cheating, F/M, Fights, Heartbreak, Running Away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 40,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondJedi/pseuds/DiamondJedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Westchester, New York: Two Weeks Earlier**

Logan took a long, hot shower.

Drenched head to toe he thrust his head back and allowed the steamy water to stream down his face in rivers. A guttural growl rumbled deep in his chest, seeped out his lips, as a grim reality urged him to make a clean getaway. His conscious striking, gnawing at the base of his humanity. Whatever that was left.

He'd made a terrible mistake.

Turning off the tap, he pushed the condensed coated shower glass door open, a cryptic cold strangling his body as he stepped out. He wrenched a towel off the rack and dried, before tossing it cleanly into the nearest hamper. His scent was imprinted on the cotton fabric, but he didn't care. No one else at the mansion possessed his unique senses, heightened to the pinnacle of clarity. No one except Rogue. Their encounter on the Statue of Liberty had imprinted the kid with his profound abilities.

He walked out into Scott and Jean's bedroom. It was clean, neat, and, adorned with sentiments and touches that made it a private and romantic haven for the pair. Logan felt a tightening in his chest as he glanced around the bedroom; took in the few homey touches only a woman could give, before settling his eyes on a sleeping figure nestled beneath white linen sheets

His eyes drifted, taking in the fullness of Jean's beauty as she lay cloaked in a veil of sleep. He brushed the soft contours of her elegant face, skimmed his fingers down shapely legs, which earlier in the evening had wrapped his waist like a blanket in intense passion.

An urge basic, animal swelled within him.

Logan stifled the furious need to claim Jean once again. Mark her as his own. He had no idea where the intense desire had come from. He'd always managed to channel that part of himself, unleashing its fury in seedy bars, cage fights…places where the lowest of humanity gathered. Weakness took its hold when Jean asked him…no…begged him to stay. Tears filling her mesmerizing eyes, she wept on his shoulder, babbling inanely about Scott.

Something about Scott. It was always about Scott. And it grated his nerves.

What could he do but to give into to her tearful plea? What could he do but hold her tightly, before a single kiss dissolved any sense of integrity and the true reason he was with her for that night.

Logan watched quietly as she let out an exultant sigh, tossed under sheet, and laid her head on the pillow. He collected his few belongings; tugged on his jeans and white tank shirt, pulled on his heavy boot, and dipped out of her and Scott's room. He didn't give a damn if he bumped right into the one-eyed prick. It was probably what he deserved. He was the one detaching himself from her, sleeping in his office. Jean even mention without so much as declaring he was seeing another woman. It was a surprise to Logan, especially since he found Cyclops to a humorless ass wipe.

He walked the short distance to his room.

Dawn was on approach.

Rays of sunlight slipped through the thin gossamer curtains adorning large windows. The yellow light enriching the cedar, oak hallway. Very soon the entire mansion would be awake, active…students hurrying to their morning classes. He turned a corner, stopping a moment by Ororo's door before pushing on. He wasn't sure if he should feel the heavy guilt some men felt when they'd cheated on someone they loved.

Loved?

No. He cared about Ororo, admired her; his attraction was purely based on a congenial respect for the dark skinned beauty. There was nothing left in him to give to the opposite sex except pleasure. Tasteless woman often cornered him in bars, after cage fights, because they saw he had that edge to boost their crumbling sex life. He gave them what they wanted and he received a good time while it lasted.

Logan thought he could make a go with Ororo, but Jean dangled before him like a ripe apple waiting to be plucked. How could he resist? She taunted him with her green eyes, curvaceous body, and sob story about her and Scott's ailing relationship. Besides, he'd been crazy about the red head the moment her soft hands skimmed his chest in the lab a year ago. Since then, she haunted him, even in his dreams.

He looked at Ororo's door, disgusted by the ill-reputable state he'd sunk. If she ever found out about him and Jean, she would never forgive. The good doctor was her best friend and he wasn't hoping she would. It didn't matter. He was leaving, the road was beckoning. He didn't belong in this cherry atmosphere. Despite the Professor's attempts, all clues to his past led to dead ends. His only fate in life was cage matches and one night stands.

As he headed to his room, a scent attacked his senses. His nostrils flared and crinkled as he breathed deeply. He knew one quite well; the other was indistinct, mutated by all the cheap after shaves the teenage boys bathed themselves in. He followed the pheromones kicking up the atmosphere, growing stronger. He neared Rogue's room the smell chocking him, the scent of a man in her dwelling. Not a boy. It was definitely a man.

Logan growled. His razor sharp claws pinching his freshly healed skin. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he charged into Rogue's room without hesitation or fear. "What the fuck is going on here?"

Screams and outburst filled the four walled room as two bodies scrambled under a quilt. A frightened, pale Rogue sought to give a true and genuine explanation. Logan heard nothing. His eyes were focused on Scott.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief

**Westchester, New York: Three Weeks Later**

Students chirped amongst themselves, clutching text books to their chests, and babbling on the latest gossip circling the mansion. In a whirlwind, what transpired upstairs between Wolverine and Cyclops aka Mr. Summers would forever remain imprinted the minds of every mutant child at the mansion.

Question swirled. Were Rogue and Scott sleeping together? Was her virginity still intact? Did Rogue lie about not being able to touch? Would Bobby ever forgive her? What part did Ms. Grey have play in this?

"Well, I heard Logan threw Mr. Summers out of the window."

"I heard Mr. Summers tried to blast him into the next county," a pink haired girl whispered.

"That's nothing. I heard Mr. Summers is downstairs in the infirmary recovering from massive injuries. I heard there was blood everywhere." A deathly wane boy replied excitedly. His skin was scaly almost like a lizard and his eye darted about like a chameleon.

"I was told it took Colossus and Dr. McCoy both to pry Logan's hands free from around Mr. Summers' throat. Logan nearly broke his neck," one student remarked.

"I heard Bobby was screaming at Rogue in the library. John practically had to drag him out of there before he caused her bodily harm." Another student incorporated.

"I always knew she was a cheeky little slut," said the pink haired girl.

"You're just jealous no guy would come within a mile of you." Jubilee came trumpeting in the conversation out of nowhere. Her dark eyes scolded the teen one year younger than she was.

Fists balled and tucked into her hips, she stood legs astride, her countenance dark. "Perhaps you'd like to address Ms. Grey in that title instead of my best friend. If she'd stay true to her fiancé rather spreading her legs to that hairy nomad, none of this shit would have happened."

"You don't know that," the pink haired girl yelled, hardly intimidated by the gum chewing Asian. She knew Jubilee was peeved because she was the last to find out about the juicy drama sweeping the corridors of the mansion. Wherever there was dirt, she was the first to know, and have an eight page summary of the event.

"Really," Jubilee clucked, glowering. "Then explain why she isn't wearing her engagement ring today. Explain that!"

As the girls sparred over who did what and how the drama unfurled none of the students heard the loud clap of heels against marble floors.

"Don't you all have homework?" Storm screamed at the top of her voice, sickened by how lightly the students held the situation. She was enraged they had nothing better to do than jabber about the circumstances leaving Scott in the infirmary, Rogue in isolation, Jean despondent, and Logan somewhere in a seedy bar.

The young mutants scattered left and right. Some ducked and hid in corners, while others fled to their bedrooms.

* * *

Alone, Ororo took a deep breath, and gripped the handkerchief in her possession. She dabbed tears building in the corners of her eyes and headed to courtyard. Restless winds howled and pounded the mansion; the onset of emotions closely connected to an electrified atmosphere.

She induced the weather to a greater extent as she took a path leading towards the lake nestled on the far side of the estate. Massive oak trees toppled to the forest floor and arctic winds sliced through the woodland terrain.

A sea of leaves swirled around her before they were carried into the grey sky. She felt her eyes meld to a hoary silver and glow and her skin prickle. She stretched out her hands and the earth transformed into a torrent of wind and freezing snow.

"Ororo."

She jolted.

Abruptly the winds died and a scenic calm graced the landscape. All that remained of the hell unleashed were fallen trees and a battered earth. She turned a full degree, looking in every direction, before landing on a face soothing to her sight.

The Professor wheeled his chair down the bumpy, dirt road to her. He looked tired and devoid of energy. Ororo pitied him. It was difficult enough to run a school and safeguard the students from a hateful world. Now he had to deal with adults bickering and fighting like children.

What kind example were they setting for the students?

"Has Scott awakened?" she asked.

"No…but—" His eyes dipped into a frown. "Logan has returned."

She closed her eyes tightly and sighed. "Thank you Professor."

With a clipped nod, he reversed and returned to the mansion. She stood in the middle of path to the boat house and mansion and struggled with which route to take. Apart of her desired to ride with the winds and never return.

She didn't want to deal with what was to come. She didn't want to face Logan. If she did, she knew then and there she would not be able to contain her rage. She would probably kill him. He betrayed her with her best friend.

He slept with Jean!

Why did he do it? Was it an itch he needed to scratch or did he love her? Desired only her? Was she just a disposable pleasure he used because Jean was inaccessible? Hurt and anger swallowed her into oblivion. She thought about what they had; the passion they shared. It was real. Was it?

A great wind swept in, wildly tousling her white hair. She resolved to face what was to come with her head held high. She would not falter and show weakness. Logan would never see how much he had crushed her. Tugging her sleeves, she walked a snail's pace back to the mansion.

"Leaving so soon?" Ororo asked resting in the door way arms folded. Logan hardly broke his pace as he stuffed t-shirts and other undisclosed items into his backpack. He tossed her a dark look and stormed to the closet. Rage etched across her face. "If you were planning to ditch me Logan you should have stayed the hell where you were."

"You're right," he grunted out and heavy boots carried him to the night stand. He opened a draw and snagged a pack of smokes. "But I forgot my cigars."

She swallowed hard, unwillingly to show a despairing front, especially to him. "So that's it…huh. It's over."

He slung his bag over his shoulder. "Yeah," he snubbed. "Don't let me stop you and Dr. McCoy. I'm sure he'll be glad to see me gone."

A surged of wind blasted the windows open and blowing all about the room. "Goddamn you Logan!" Ororo screamed, choking back tears.

"Too late, He already has," he spat out, marching to the door. She blocked his furious need to escape the bedroom they shared.

"Why Jean huh? Why her?"

He kicked his head up in frustration. "I don't know! I guess it was an itch I felt like scratching!"

Storm's hand flew through the hair and connected Logan's hairy cheek in a loud slap. He stood unmoved by the burning sensation riddling his face. Tears streamed down Ororo's face, her breath came in heavy pants. She was embittered by his words and by the fact she was blubbering like a blithering idiot. She swore he wouldn't see her this way.

"Happy now," he growled.

"No," she cried.

"Good," he said and brushed passed her.

Shaken, Ororo caught herself against the door, and wept.

* * *

 

"Sorry I'm late. I had to fight off John for this. You know how that boy can eat."

Jubilee entered with a tray laden with hot food: Bacon, eggs, hash browns with a side of toast, and freshly squeezed orange juice. Originally, she was going to go for Rogue's favorite cereal but thought the girl should have something warm and filling in her stomach. It was three weeks after the incident that left Scott incapacitated and everyone in the mansion walking on eggshells.

Ororo had severed her relationship with Wolverine. He took off within the hour, like clockwork, riding out like desperado. Adding insult to Scott's injuries, he stole away on his fully upgraded Harley Davidson. It had replaced the first one Logan had disappeared on. This two, like Jean, he'd taken for a long ride.

"Rogue?"

A pale skinned girl turned to look with weeping eyes at a hesitant Asian. Rogue sat beside a window overlooking the lake. Tired of the whispers, the looks, she moved out to one of the private cottages near the lake.

They had been constructed for faculty members who might want to start a family but couldn't afford the raging prices of real estate. It was a peaceful little abode with a white picket fence and garden to top it off.

Jubilee came every breakfast lunch and dinner. She was the only person Rogue would allow inside the tiny house. She was dedicated to seeing her friend through this calamity. Rogue never spoke about what happened or how she and Scott ended up in the same bed together. Ideas and assumptions were conjured from immature imaginations as student second guessed each other.

"You need to eat?" She set the tray on a TV stand and carried it to her friend. "Eat."

"He's awake," Rogue said her broken voice so soft Jubilee narrowly missed the words.

"Who's awake," Jubilee replied, disturbed by her eerie manner. She caught her breath, stunned as Rogue rose knocking over the tray of food. Silent, she departed the cottage and headed for the mansion.

"Hey, wait!" Jubilee cried chasing her down.

* * *

 

Scott awoke to an uncomfortable sensation against his windpipe. He tried to open his eyes, but blackness covered his visual senses. Unsure, afraid, stifled by bouts of pain, he yearned to rip the offending cloth off but weakness burdened him.

He heard voices but couldn't locate where they were coming from. The voices were familiar. He couldn't turn his head. Disquieted, he murmured and the conversation near him came to an abrupt end.

"Scott." Jean exhaled, her eyes swimming with tears and happiness. She went to his side and sank onto the bed. "Scott, it's me," she said in his ears. "You're going to be okay." Her fingers toyed with his hair, brushing the dark strands back from his brow. He frowned and jerked. A sharp pang pierced her and she withdrew her hand. He grunted angrily and she stood. His thoughts bombarded her telepathy; a wrath and temper unforeseen made her cower with guilt.

"Excuse me," she gasped and almost fled the medical ward. She surged through the massive iron doors just in time to see Rogue approach. She wasn't as surprised as she was fickle by the skinny girl's presence. How her fiancé was even aroused by this gangly imp was a mystery? It really didn't matter. If it wasn't for her indiscretion Scott wouldn't have raised an eyebrow to her. Besides, it was clear he turned to her because she and Logan were foolish enough to be caught in an indecent position.

Scott's playtime with Rogue was pure revenge, nothing more.

Rogue's eyes bore into her and Jean tipped her head, glaring darkly. "Keep moving girl," Jubilee urged, resting her hand on the small of her friend's back. She looked between the two women who seemed ever ready to rip each other head's off. Jean gritted her teeth. She felt her power stir in the bony little girl's blood; a freak accident in the danger room.

Evidently, while counseling with the Professor, she discovered like puberty Rogue's powers were still developing. She was beginning to manifest latent powers. A secondary mutation. Total recall of powers already absorbed. It wasn't strong, but with time, maturity it could be something.

Scoffing, Jean watched the pair enter the medical ward. She saw Rogue move to take her position on the bed next to Scott and stiffened. A gloved hand reached out to touch his fingers. She heard the girl speak.

Scott shuffled to take Rogue's entire hand in his. Jealously and regret burned. She saw their thoughts and knew the truth. It was innocent. They'd been friends all along. Nothing occurred when they were caught sleeping beside each other.

Nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief

**Westchester, New York: Present Time**

It was quarter after midnight when the Professor came into the medical ward to send Rogue to bed. Despite her protest, he insisted and promised to notify her if there was any change in Scott's condition. He was assured by Dr. McCoy Scott would continue to improve. Thankful, she left Scott to the Professor's care who, besides Jubilee, was the only friend she had left in the mansion. She knew what students and one faculty member thought about her as she made her way to the elevator. Their opinions assaulted the weak signals of Jean's telepathic abilities.

SLUT!

The term scorched her mind savagely. A trembling hand touched her brow, and she lightly brushed a platinum strand out of her eye. She would cry if she was truly upset by the hurtful thoughts. She might even shed a single tear in distress. Shockingly enough, she wasn't anxious about what crossed their minds as she came down to see Scott earlier that morning. She could care less. Besides, the real reason she moved out to the cottage was not out of shame or guilt. It was so no one would be injured in her relapses.

With a multitude of powers resurfacing, the Professor considered it wise to keep her at a safe distance until she could gain control. He visited daily to help her coupe with the alarming changes to her body. At first, like her skin, Rogue despised what was happening to her. The idea of having to re-arrange her life once again made her ill. But after a while, she adapted and took delight that she wasn't so helpless in the Danger Room. She could defend herself, aggressively, if necessary. True, she was a copycat, her powers weren't her own, but what did it matter. Her newfound ability was emboldening, yet as one power strengthened another was fading.

As she stepped off the lift, Rogue made her way down the dark hallway, all the while rubbing her fingertips together inside the silk gloves. The fabric cleverly concealed a secret she had kept hidden for two months. She could touch and not just through a layer of cloth. She could touch skin to skin. She didn't know how it occurred. It was alarming, not only to her, but to Scott as his eyes widened as large of golf balls. Hugging her torso, she turned sharply and crept into the library. Stealing out the French doors, she hopped down a flight of steps and headed towards her little cottage by the lake. She smiled in thought of the quaint house that seemed like miles from the outside world.

She had plenty of time to think out here without the annoying, immature talk of which celebrity split up after three days of marriage. Some people abhorred the idea of isolation. Being alone and plagued by their thoughts was horrifying. For Rogue, her time by the lake gave her a chance to really sit down and think about how she was able to re-discover the ability to feel. Closing the door to her bedroom, she stripped out of her clothes and climbed into bed naked. She reveled in the feel and smell of cotton against her skin. It was, for the longest while, the closest to a soft hand on her back.

Then it happened.

* * *

 

**Westchester, New York: Three Weeks Earlier**

Scott had touched her.

She was sitting in class one morning, preparing for another tedious lecture on William Shakespeare. She came early to English class because Jubilee sometimes provoked her. Begged her to copy answers to the questions she failed to do last night. Yes, the spunky Asian was her best friend, but it aggravated her to share the hard work she put into finding her answers. So, she started setting her alarm early in order to sneak out of their room to get to class. There was never a rush at breakfast and the extra time gave her a chance to read ahead. She was just finishing Hamlet's monologue when Scott burst into the classroom. She literally jumped out of her seat. He was muttering something under his breath as he stalked to his desk and slammed his briefcase onto of the table.

Rogue watched as he stood with his back to her; a hand covering his mouth. She knew something was troubling him, but didn't pry. Rumors were rampant. All was not well in paradise. Logan's sudden return from another venture into his past was taking its toll on their relationship. Rogue knew Jean was a pretentious flirt, laughing girlishly at one of Logan's tired jokes, and hitting him playfully when she had the chance. It didn't bother her anymore. One time she would become green with envy and wish to rip the older woman's lovely red hair out her scalp. But that was then when she had a major crush on the handsome loner. Eventually, she came to accept her position in his life. She was 'the kid'. The last figment of sanity in his life. He would return just to check and see if she was okay, threaten Bobby, throw his weight around, and then depart in three months.

She counted.

His time table was tattooed in her brain.

Logan wasn't the type of man to remain tied down. He was a wanderer and a piece of him in her head sometimes pulled her to do the same. His unannounced return would throw Scott into a state of panic. He would run around like a chicken with its head cut off, while vying for his fiancé's attention. Rogue had to admit she felt sorry for the man. Other times, she thought he was downright pathetic. If he didn't try so hard like Logan, Jean would come crawling back on her hands and knees. Maybe. Anyhow, she sat quietly reading then heard him clear his throat.

"Oh, Rogue," he said in surprise. "I didn't see you there."

"I was just reading."

"Kind of early don't you think?" He took a glimpse at the clock mounted on the back wall over the door. "Class doesn't start for another fifteen minutes."

"I know," she shrugged. "I needed a quiet place to read."

"Jubilee?"

Rogue giggled. "How could you tell?"

Scott smirked. "A wild guess." He shoved his hands deep into the olive slacks he habitually wore. He weaved through the field of desks crowding the room and stopped. "What are you reading?"

"Hamlet."

He arched his brow. Clearly, he was impressed. "Wow," he said. "We don't start Hamlet till next Monday."

"I know." Rogue smoothed her bare hand over the finely printed page. For as long as she lived in the mansion, she never wore her gloves while she read. The soft material made it hard to hold books and turn the pages. Of course, she always made sure she was alone when she read, to ensure there would be no accidents. "I was bored one evening, so I decided to do a little light reading."

Scott nodded in amazement and moved closer to her desk. "Where are you now?"

"I guess where Hamlet starts talking to himself," Rogue leaned into her book, squinting at the words. "But then again, he always talks to himself."

Scott chuckled; almost glad to be getting his mind off the argument he and Jean had moments ago. He asked her what date in September they should marry. She decided they should push for a Spring wedding. He was peeved. Just this Spring he asked to set a date, she said she and Storm were looking at Fall colors. The woman was never going to set a date. He leaned close to Rogue and turned her book to him.

"Ah," he brightened. "The famous monologue, we'll discuss it in greater detail when we read it come Monday." He smiled and adjusted her book. "For now, let's stick to Macbeth."

"Okay," Rogue said, closing the textbook, knocking her gloves onto the floor. "Damn!"

"Here, let me." Scott bent forward to retrieve the dark green opera gloves.

"No, I'll get it!" She said nervously, fearful of his close proximity, and the danger of draining him again.

Scott laughed. "It's okay."

They dove for the crumpled fabric lying on the floor. It was a mere second. Fingers crossed as two different hands ensnared the gloves, bringing forth a contact that was alarming and unexpected. Scott stared in shock at Rogue. He felt nothing. He had been winded once before when Rogue's power had nearly sucked him dry. He remembered the grueling, painful sensation that mirrored death. But here, now, he felt nothing. There was no pull.

"Rogue," Scott's voice caught as his index finger flicked out to caress side of her hand.

She trembled. "I—I can't—feel you—I—"

"Neither can I."

"You're not in my head—how—"

The bell tolled and the boisterous cry of students descended into the hallways. Scott panicked and rushed to his desk. People would question why he was hunkered next to Rogue, not to mention holding her hand. His heart was thundering as he opened his briefcase and retrieved his teacher's edition textbook and grading manual. He looked at Rogue. Her eyes were stretched to their full capacity and her skin was as white as marble. He wanted to speak to her but was bombarded by a sea of students. He made up his face and greeted them in a loud clear voice. He would deal with Rogue later. Class had to begin.

"Uh Rogue," Scott said as students scrambled to their next period. "Might I have a word with you?"

She clutched her books and shifted one foot to the other. "I have History with Ms. Munroe."

"It would just be a minuet," he said. "I'll write you a pass."

Head down, she walked to the front of the class, and squeezed into one of the desks. When the classroom door closed Scott came from around his desk. He was still shaken by what just occurred an hour ago. Was it possible she'd found a way to control her powers? He knew of her struggles, an inner turmoil he could identify to his own self. A head injury gave him the sad misfortune of not being able to control his powers. It was this reason he was kind to Rogue and never treated her like an outcast.

"You—uh—should speak with the Professor—about—this," he said after five minutes. She nodded and bit her bottom lip. Another minute passed. Scott didn't know what else to say. "You can go."

Rogue scrambled to her feet, holding her books close. Just as she headed for the exit Scott halted her attempt to escape. She turned and saw him coming to her. He slowly held out a hand to her. A mixture of confusion and wonder flooded Rogue as she looked at her teacher and what he offered. She didn't know if she could trust it. During class she battled with herself. Doubt and hope nearly drove her to madness. Hesitantly, she peeled off a dark green glove, and reached out to take his hand.

Warmth burrowed bone deep into her flesh, a sensation so foreign she let out a soft gasp. Scott smiled as Rogue clutched his hand in desperation and saw tears well in her eyes. "I don't understand," she whimpered. "Why is this happening?"

"The Professor will know." He measured her hand. It was so fragile and pale compared to his own with nice clean, oval nails, contrary to Jean's fashionable French tips. "You should get to class."

Rogue frowned. She was afraid to let go of Scott's hand, afraid this was a cruel trick of her mind. If she let go, she was afraid she would lose this gift forever. The sound of the door opening forced the pair to separate much to Rogue's chagrin. She tugged on her glove and turned in time to see Jean enter. "Oh, Scott," she looked from her fiancé to Rogue. "I thought you were alone."

"Rogue had some questions about the assignment," he lied, praying Jean wouldn't pry into his thoughts.

"Yeah," Rogue said. "Thank you Mr. Summers."

He nodded. "Oh," he went to his desk. He scribbled something on a yellow pad and tore the sheet. "Here's you're pass." Snatching it, Rogue hurried past the tall red head.

"Funny," Jean said watching the young girl hurry down hall. "You always say she's you're best student. I wouldn't figure she would be having problems."

Scott didn't like where she was going. "Everyone has point where they need help Jean."

"Hmm."

"What did want to talk to me about?"

Jean went to him and draped her arms around his neck. "How do feel about June 15th?"

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief

**Westchester, New York: Present Time**

"So, how was he?"

Rogue turned sharply, her hand halting in midair. She'd been reaching for the cream located on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet to add to her chocolate milk. To her utter annoyance, she came face to face with the one woman she'd desperately tried to avoid for the last few days.

"What did you say?" she asked, her eyes coming together.

Jean swept gracefully into the kitchen, her nightgown open to reveal a sexy green satin nightgown. Her long scarlet hair fell in a tangled mass down to her back. Bloodshot green eyes glimmered with disdain as she peered at the slender, plain brunette.

"Deaf too, I'm not surprise," she spouted, airily, and rolled her eyes. "I said how is he?"

"That's what I thought you said," Rogue attacked. She was no fool. Logan's sensitive hearing had kicked into gear, allowing her to pick up on the nasty little remark. She knew exactly what Jean was implying and didn't like it one bit. But she was in no mood to engage in a shouting contest with the witch. "He's just fine. Glad to be alive. Your lover certainly did a number on him."

Lip curling into a sneer, Jean scoffed. "Logan is not my lover."

Rogue shrugged and went back to putting the finishing touches in her chocolate milk. Hiking onto her toes, she reached the top shelf and grabbed a can of whipped cream. She swirled a gob onto the surface of the dark mocha. "You could have fooled me. They way Scott caught you guys all tongue tied and limbs entwined…"

"Logan was a mistake," Jean snapped, resting a hand to her forehead. A headache throbbed adding to her already miserable disposition. Now she had to listen to crap being spewed by a child.

"It's always a mistake," Rogue turned cupping her mug, warming her palms. "You got caught and so now it's a mistake."

"It was a MISTAKE…." Jean hissed, her eyes growing black. "I love Scott."

"You certainly have a funny way of showing it." Head bowing, Rogue took a careful sip of her hot chocolate milk. Savoring the rich, sweet brew, she swallowed and trembled as the warmth slid down her throat to warm her all over.

Anger settled root at the base of Jean's skull. Radiated in waves. Making her conjure unspeakable acts that would leave Rogue a twitching, bloody stain on the kitchen floor. Eying a butcher knife, her eyelids drew closer together as she watched the handle of the menacing weapon move and stir in the stand.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Rogue sensed what course of action the older woman dared to take. "The death penalty still applies most severely to mutants and it won't make Scott love you anymore than he does now."

Face bleached white, Jean gawked at the girl. Had she seen what was in her mind? She gritted her teeth till it felt as though they might shatter in her jawbone. Clutching her night gown, she tugged it fiercely about her body. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't," Rogue said, marking her close as Jean walked about the kitchen. The room was silent for a period of time. The two women did nothing but stare at the other. Gauging. Distrust evident in their eyes. "Are you going to apologize?"

Head snapping round, Jean stared dangerous darts into Rogue. "I have apologized! He won't accept my apology."

"I'm not talking about Scott. It's pointless to seek his apology. He won't forgive you."

"Oh," Jean folded her arms, tossing her head in the air. "You are so certain of that. You're the little expert in the matters of relationship. You…who send every boy save running for the hills with your toxic skin."

"It's not so toxic anymore." Rogue grinned and sipped her hot chocolate. "But I'm guessing you already know that."

Eyes falling close, Jean sucked in a hard breath. Yes. She knew perfectly well.

**Westchester, New York: Three Weeks Earlier.**

Quarter to eleven Scott had still not come to bed. Easing onto the opposite side of the bed, Jean let her hand travel across the sheets to the space where her fiancé should be resting. He wasn't. She was to endure another cold night alone. It had been that way since Logan returned to the mansion. But not always. Usually, Scott handled his return without a hitch. The two would cross paths, bark insults at each other, make weak threats but that was it. Scott went about his business and so did Logan till he rode off on another quest into his past.

It was different this time.

But it wasn't always.

Before she would wake up in the morning to see love of her life fully roused and getting ready to make a start at another day. They'd trade words, kiss lightly, and walk to their perspective jobs at the Xavier Institute. Join one another for lunch outside underneath the great oak tree, or if the day was too hot in the cafeteria. Later it would be dinner, tedious conversations regarding school work, and if they weren't too tired a quick tryst beneath the sheets.

Regrettably, the situation had become worst. And it was her own doing.

Scott caught Logan and her red-handed kissing in her office. She was so terrified all she could do was stare at her fiancé dumbfounded. A look of heartbreak screamed in his shielded eyes. No outrage. No violence. Scott backed out the room and had not come near her since. He even took to sleeping on the floor. When her pleas for forgiveness seemed to aggravate him, drive the wedge deeper, he slept in his office.

"I don't want to talk about it Jean," he said earlier. He sounded exhausted. Broken. He was sitting in his office going through endless amounts of papers…grading them randomly. He barely looked at her, opting to ignore her entirely.

"When do you want to talk about it?" She stood before his desk, hands clasped together. "We can't leave this to fester. It will become a problem."

Scott raged then, surging to his feet. "The problem isn't the kiss. The problem is my fiancée behaving like a horny schoolgirl who doesn't know how to keep her legs close."

Tucking a quivering lip, Jean swallowed the thick lump in her throat. She'd never seen him this way before. So cold. Cruel. She sought some means of salvaging her wounded pride. "You should know something about schoolgirls Scott. After all, you seem to take interest in a certain…girl."

"Don't you dare drag Rogue into the mud with you and Logan?" He attacked, pointing an accusing hand at her. "There is nothing going on between us. So get that filthy thought out your head."

Groaning, she winced, rolling onto her back. She gazed up at the ceiling, her heart swelling as the incident replayed in her head. Scott had defended someone other than her. He was always one to take her side. But no more.

Pushing up into a sit she stared at the door and then checked the alarm clock. She sighed. "Where are you Scott?" she whispered into the unfriendly darkness. Without knowing, she felt her thoughts go as she searched for the man she truly loved. To her horror and dismay, she located Scott in the kitchen, and he was not alone.

Scrambling out bed, Jean drew on her robe, and stormed out of their bedroom. Her bare feet slapped against the cold tile as she made her way to the kitchen. Rage seared her countenance as Scott's voice reverberated in her head.

" _There is nothing going on between us."_

Heat rose in her eyes and her vision turned red. "Nothing," she hissed. "Nothing." The kitchen was dead ahead. Light poured out like a floodgate. She heard laughter and clenched her fists. Slowing her pace, she crept closer to the entrance, peering inside. Her eyes narrowed to slits. Her thoughts screamed.

Seated at the island counter, Scott and Rogue were laughing and sharing a carton of ice-cream. They seemed so content and happy, it was downright sickening. Rogue's face beamed as she chattered on and on about mindless, teenage drivel and even worse Scott appeared to eating it up. Just when she was about to burst in and break up the scandalous charade, Scott reached out took Rogue's hand.

Her bare hand.

Jean blinked in horror. Unable to believe what she was witnessing.

How was it possible he was touching…holding her hand…and nothing was happening to him. He wasn't dying. Observing the pair lace the fingers together, smiling and laughing, made her ill.

" _There is nothing going on between us."_

Her hand clenched into a fist as she swung around and dashed back upstairs. Instead of returning to her room, Jean sought out another room. She knocked on a hard oak door. A deep voiced boomed on the opposite side. Turning the handle, she entered Logan's room.

**Westchester, New York: Present Time**

"…I hope you intend to apologize to Ms. Munroe…"

Jean's face altered in grim disapproval. She had plainly forgotten about the skinny twit in the kitchen as her thought revered to the weeks where her whole, perfect life turned upside down. She stalked to the Cuisinart already bubbling with coffee and poured a cup. She shifted and leaned against the island counter.

"Since when do you give me orders," she said saucily.

"Don't you care that you may have broken Ms. Munroe's heart?"

Jean narrowed her eyes. "Of course I care." She dashed the rest of her coffee in the sink. "Listen you this has nothing to do with her."

"Isn't Logan her man?"

"She had no real claim to him. Come to think about," Jean lightly tapped her chin with a perfectly manicured nail. "Neither did you."

Rogue shook her head. "That might've hurt if I still had a crush on him but I don't. Ms. Munroe, on the other hand, held genuine feelings for him. But I guess, by the way you say, it her feelings don't matter. Some friend you are."

Jean stalked to Rogue furious. "I am her friend."

"Then act like it." Glancing away, the southern girl let out a breath. "I don't know why we are having this conversation."

"Yes," the redhead darkened, "why are we talking?"

"Well it's not exactly like everyone else is talking to you these days," Rogue pointed out. "Ms. Munroe is the one you should be talking to. If you still have heart." She left the elder woman to ponder her words, seeing somehow they may or may not have much effect.

**Westchester, New York: Present Time**

_...Two days later…_

Timid. Uncertain. Jean made her way towards the greenhouse.

It was a gloriously beautiful Saturday morning. The skies were clear, blue with one or two clouds floating in the spacious heavens. The sun was warm and golden on her skin. It was perfect weather. Whether by act of nature or Storm's design, Jean knew the African goddess would not miss this opportunity to tend to her greatest love.

A trembling hand rested on the knob, she inhaled sharply, and then turned and pushed the door open. It was moderately warm. Storm kept the interior temperature between 78 – 83 degrees Fahrenheit in order to grow a wide variety of plants.

It was pleasant. Well-organized. A varying array of plants made up the greenhouse. Some plants were dying species she was preserving and growing before she sent them to wildlife reserves. Storm's personal crusade. It astonished Jean to realize she'd never been in the greenhouse before. Once perhaps. And was when it was being instructed. So she decided to take a tour to see what the weather goddess had achieved.

"What are you doing?"

Jean whirled around in time to see Ororo holding a plant and a nasty pair of garden shears.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief

**Westchester, New York: Present Time**

… _Two days later…_

The tension within the deluxe greenhouse was as thick as mist covering a mountaintop. Jean's heart quickened. Sweat beaded her forehead and her throat inexplicably dry. She gawked at Ororo, her haunting blue eyes slightly red, foretelling the agony and suffering she'd caused. The tears shed. But it was nothing compared to the hatred marring her lovely face. Her head drooping, Jean swallowed the lump in her throat, angling her body, preparing to leave.

"You don't have to leave on the count of me." Jean paused, stunned. Ororo's voice came so unexpectedly, for a moment, she thought it was her mind playing tricks on her. She glanced back at the dark skinned mutant warily. Ororo had her back to her. Thankfully, the garden shears that had formally been in her hand were on the table, and she was busy pouring water onto a Bonsai tree.

"I didn't want to disturb you," said Jean.

Ororo let out a harsh snort. "Disturb," she collected the shears in her hand and snipped the tiny green leaves. "It's a little late for that." She turned and flashed the school doctor a look. "True, I did come out here for some solace." She set the tree down, turned, and leaned against the work station. "But since you're here…we can talk."

Jean's eyes never left the large shears. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched Ororo's fingers clench and flex on the handle. Little tremors swam up her spine at what she sensed and it was daunting. She never had any reason to be nervous in Ororo's presence. The pair were close, like two peas in a pod, or use to be. She closed her eyes, letting out a quivering puff of air.

How could she have messed up so badly?

All she wanted to do was make Scott jealous. She never truly meant to hurt Ororo.

"So I guess June 15th is cancelled."

"June 15th?" asked Jean.

"The wedding," Ororo pointed out.

Jean frowned, folding her arms about her chest, rubbing her hands up and down to get warm. "It's…not…officially…postponed actually." Her pupils grew round when she heard Ororo laughing.

"Are you kidding?" she cried. "You expect Scott to walk down the aisle with you now after you banged Logan."

"I knew you would bring that up," she sighed.

Ororo's face shadowed, eyes glowing. "What did you want to talk about?" She looked to her right, the clear skies and bright sunshine faded, great grey clouds swept in from the west. Large elm trees started to sway as the wind stirred the limbs and branches. "Did you want to about the weather?"

"Ororo," Jean choked back tears. "Please…I-I…never…"

"I guess Scott wasn't enough for you was he!" Ororo attacked without feeling, gripping the shears. "You eventually had to go and seek out Logan didn't you?"

Jean straightened, narrowing her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" Ororo yelled. "I mean you have a sexual appetite that is not only veracious, it's insatiable. Even when we were younger you were flirtatious to the point of brazen. Emma once made a comment about you being just as bad as she…"

"Oh don't you dare bring Emma Frost into this!" Jean screamed.

"Why not? There's some truth in what she said. I didn't want to believe it then. I thought she was just jealous of you, but now I see she was right."

"Ororo what happened between me and Logan…"

"I don't want to hear it!"

A gush of wind surged sending a dead tree branch shattering through a window. Intense winds raged with ferocity, knocking over plants, tables, shaking the feeble structure. Jean hunched over using her telekinesis to protect herself from the bits of glass flying all throughout the greenhouse. She strived to conceal herself inside a bubble, but was caught unawares by the sudden force of wind. Stirring up the atmosphere, Ororo cause a huge burst of wind to send Jean flying out the greenhouse. Trees toppled and leaves were stripped off limbs under the mighty whirlwind over taking the mansion grounds.

Ethereal and all powerful, Ororo levitated out the greenhouse just seconds before the metal structure collapsed. Her electric white eyes glared down at her former best friend with intense hatred. The skies turned black. Thunderclouds swelled forcing the wonderful warm weather to dip to a chilling degree. The outside world grew chaotic. Jean forced herself to stand despite astronomical winds pressing her to the ground.

Hurricane force winds carried numerous benches and potted plants into the air, under Ororo's guidance went sailing towards Jean. She managed to block the constant barrage of heavy objects, but with the weather so unstable, some when flying through the mansion windows.

"Ororo, please," she pleaded, shivering, her hand stretched out in front of her. "Stop!"

"I can't believe the Professor always held you with such high esteem!" Ororo barked, walking slowing, her white hair swirling above her head. Thunder clapped in the distance and Jean jerked her head heavenward. She saw lightning crack in the foreboding sky then turned to Ororo. Just seconds before a powerful surge of electricity connected with the earth, striking Jean, Ororo passed into a swoon. Sunshine pierced the darkened sky, the clouds departed, and the world stilled.

Astounded, Jean spun around looking about the grounds. Regardless of the carnage, the damages etched in the mansion, it seemed as if nothing had transpired. She looked down to see Ororo sprawled on the grass, her white fanning out like angel wings. She rushed to her side and dropped to her knees.

 _Jean._ The Professor's voice came forth in her mind. _She's alright. I've simply interfered and have sent Hank. He'll take Ororo to her room to rest. But I'd like to talk to you as soon as you've pulled yourself together._

She looked behind her once she heard the back door scrape open, footsteps filing across broken chips of glass. "Here," Beast said gently, lifting Ororo in his arms. "I'll take her. You go on and wash up."

Letting out a haggard sigh, Jean rose, brushed her skirt, and withdrew to the mansion. To her dismay, students were lined outside, looking at her, some with a definite question in their eyes while other held answers. With a quiet dignity Jean moved through the crowd of cautious students, ignored the laughs, few bouts of whispers as she headed inside. As if the knife had sunk deeper, she encountered Rogue on the staircase. The young girl's eyes traveled over her disheveled state before prancing down the remainder of the steps, turning east on the main foyer. She knew exactly where she was heading, to the lower levels to attend to her fiancé.

Enraged, Jean gripped the railing, bearing her nails deep into the wood. A hunger to strangle Rogue with her bare hands taunted. But she remembered the Professor was anticipating her presence and unwillingly dragged her aching body up the stairs. She showered and dressed in a white Cashmere sweater, wool black skirt, and zipped up her boots. Running the brush through her hair, she took a deep breath and left the bedroom.

Making her way to the Professor's office, there was no doubt in her mind what he wanted to speak to her about. The whole school was aware of how she seduced Logan into bed. If they had a school newspaper it would make the front page. It wasn't her fault. Scott was becoming too involved with Rogue. So, she made a wrong choice in sleeping with Logan, but she also knew of how much Scott hated the man. She just wanted him to burn a teensy bit. She turned right and paused in front of large double doors. Inhaling, she knocked.

"Yes, come in Jean," boomed a voice with a heavy English accent behind to sturdy oak.

She turned the handle, strolling into the study. It was a spacious high ceiling chamber with a large, brass chandelier hanging down half way. Mahogany paneled the walls, light curtains adorned windows to breathe light into the dark room. An exquisite array of paintings and figurines were set all about. A tan sofa took most of the floor space and antique coffee table and Persian rug sat on the floor. There was a book shelf off to the right and miniature replica of the globe on a stand.

"Sit down Jean," Xavier said, wheeling towards his first student. His eyes were set, grim lines made his face drawn and haggard.

She sank into the sofa, crossing her legs. "Is everything alright Charles? You look tired." She tried to feign the obvious, avoid the situation, yet it was difficult to distract a powerful mind like the Professors'.

He laughed. "No," he moved closer the coffee table and poured some tea. "Just…frustrated…it's been an…interesting week."

Jean shifted uncomfortably; the idea of the Professor being aware of her foul conduct was rather disheartening. She was always proud of the fact she'd been his prized student. Xavier lifted his head a notch and noted her unease. He flashed a weak smile.

"I'm not going to bring up anything about the last few days," he said. "I just want everything to calm down. Hopefully, we can clear the air, patch tender wounds. If not, I'm going to disband the X-Men."

Jean shot ram rod straight, mortified. "What?"

"Logan is gone. Scott is slowly recovering from his injuries and Storm is distraught." The Professor fixed his eyes on Jean. He tried to shield the disappointment brimming in his eyes, but his heart was weakened by a single act he himself could have prevented. Nevertheless, his X-Men were grown adults with minds of their own; minds he wouldn't tamper with. Jean had to learn her behavior, her actions, had consequences.

"Professor," Jean cried. "Now is not the time to break up the X-Men. Anti-mutant terrorists lurk and Magneto is on the loose. We cannot afford to show a weak front."

Xavier shook his head. "I have no choice Jean. Neither of you can't stand one another at the moment. I'm sure you all end up killing each other rather than engage you're enemies." He closed his eyes in light what Ororo nearly did an hour earlier. She committed on destroying Jean.

"But what if Magneto finds out the X-Men are no more and chooses to strike," she said. "He sees us as a thorn in his side in his quest for world domination. He would take this chance to attack and literally destroy us."

"Don't you worry about Erik." He wheeled back and positioned himself close to a painting, taking in the details of Monet's masterpiece of the Ballerina Girl. A brilliant piece of work and the duplicate copy had cost him a hefty sum. "His forces have dwindled there's just Mystique now. He no longer has the services of Toad and Sabertooth."

"True," she unfolded her legs and moved on the soft cushion. "But you know how cunning that blue skinned vixen is. She's already entwined herself in the role of Senator Kelly."

The lines in the Professor's forehead deepened. "I know, but she's given mutants an edge in this threat against the Mutant Registration Act. Without their strongest supporter, the senate has lost a huge frontrunner to have every mutant in the United State documented and profiled."

A brief silence fell on the room. Jean rose and went to her mentor. "I know I'm the cause of this Professor and I'm sorry. I was only…" A knock came at the door.

"Yes, come," said Xavier.

Rogue entered the study. She was dressed in her hooded trench coat; a grey scarf was wrapped around her throat. She looked through Jean, and acknowledged the Professor. "We're all packed and ready to go Professor."

"Go," Jean said in surprise.

Rogue ignored her. "I want to thank you for allowing me to go along. I needed this."

The Professor set his chair into motion, halting in front of the young girl. "It was not a problem. Scott needs the best care in the world and I know Dr. MacTaggert will give that to him."

Alarmed, Jean tipped her head to right, stunned by what she overhearing. Scott was leaving? Rogue was going with him…to Scotland!

"It's for the best," Rogue sighed. "I think we need a little breather." She cut her eyes at the red head before laying them on the Professor. "Well, the cab is waiting, Scott is tucked away, and I'll call you once we've reach the airport."

"Call me when you land," he said.

"Okay." The platinum haired teenager leaned down and planted a kiss on his bald head. Smiling, Xavier waved good bye.

He felt Jean's protestation and questions fueling his brain. He whirled in the chair to see her standing arms folded, looking terribly vexed.

"You're sending him to Scotland," she cried.

"It's best for everyone Jean," Xavier said. "And Scott is not going to Scotland he's going to Hawaii. Moira is currently operating there for the moment. Her headquarters on Muir Island came under attack several weeks ago by avid fanatics. She and her colleagues had to flee. I telephoned her a few days ago and she says she happy to see to Scott's care. I've left certain details out."

She narrowed her eyes. "When were you going to tell me? How are Scott and I supposed to reconcile?"

Xavier leaned back in his chair, disturbed by Jean's selfishness. "I really don't have to tell you anything."

With that, he turned not before telling her that she was on probation, and close to be removed from her position. He was her mentor but he still had a school to run. Some of these students still had homes to return to and he didn't want them retelling their parents the grisly details of the last three weeks. He didn't want parents to yank their children out of the school because their teacher had no self-control.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief

**Maui, Hawaii: Present Time**

… _Six days later…_

Rogue padded barefoot down to the facilities private beach, reveling in the feel of toes spreading across the sand. She took a deep breath, inhaling the salty sea air. Her face brightened upon sight of the endless blue water as it stretched out toward the distant horizon. It was days before she could take this opportunity to come out and taste the fruit of the island. And she saw it was truly paradise. Endless palm trees stood rooted in the volcanic soil and swayed in the gentle breeze. There was a dazzling variety of flowers enriched with potent fragrances she'd never smelled before. Sand so white it appeared to glow in the sun.

She walked to the edge of the shore and eased onto the sand. She watched the pristine blue waters lap onto the sand and sighed. It was wonderful here, peaceful, free of the tension and strife that seemed to oppress her since she arrived at Westchester. Rogue wondered, perhaps, she should have come here first; taken the three hundred dollars her father shoved into her hand before casting her out into the street, and come here. Dr. MacTaggert was wonderful, kind, like the Professor, except…she blinked out last thought. She didn't want to discredit the man who'd brought her into his home with open arms.

Sighing, she fell back against the sand, soaking up the sun's rays, while listening to the surf break on the bank. She'd come here to relax and assist Scott in whatever way she could, not dwell on her problems. She didn't want to think about Bobby or Kitty, or how she'd sniffed out their treacherous affair. And she certainly made it a point to purge Logan out of her thoughts. The man had no right to barge into her room like a raving lunatic and treat Scott like his personal punching bag. She sucked in her breath, groaning.

"This is not how I want to spend my time," she said.

"I thought you were spending that time with me."

Rogue bolted up, swinging her torso around, her legs almost getting tangled in the effort. "Scott!" He was standing behind her, leaning on the orderly, Todd, for support. Immediately, she was on her feet, going to his side. "What are you crazy? You should be in bed."

He gave her a weak smile; the swelling on his face had gone down, and thanks to Dr. MacTaggert revolutionary anti-inflammatory medicine, the bruises were fading rapidly.

"Ah," he said. "A couple of broken ribs and a fractured jaw aren't going to stop me."

Rogue pouted her lips. "Logan almost did."

"Let's not go there," Scott muttered, clinging to Todd as he was lowered to the sand.

"I don't know if this is a good idea." Rogue said apprehensively.

"It's alright." Todd informed in a thick Scottish accent. "Dr. MacTaggert said the fresh air would do him some good."

"See, the Doc says it's okay." Scott grinned and Rogue couldn't help but laugh. The expression on his face made him look so adorable. She sank to her knees and crept up beside him.

"A half hour then," said Todd, winking, and headed back to the large facility at the top of the hill. For a long while, Rogue and Scott didn't say a word to each other. They shared a quiet moment, gazing out onto the aquamarine sea, relaxing in the calming breeze.

"I always wanted to come here," Scott said, shattering the never-ending silence. "I think Hawaii is the most beautiful place on God's green earth. You know Jean and I…"

Rogue's head jerked up, eyes wide. Since their arrival to Dr. MacTaggert's secluded clinic on the far side of Maui, Scott had not spoken a single word in regards to his fiancée. In fact, he never breathed a word, even when they were back at the mansion.

Scott grimaced, flinging a broken sea shell into the water. He took a glance at Rogue, giving her a flat smile. "I guess you don't want to hear about Jean."

"I really don't have a problem with her," she admitted.

"But everyone else does," he grumbled.

"She thought she was losing you."

Scott glared at her. "Are you defending her?"

"No," Rogue cried. "I…just thought…well, one of us has to be rational while the other gets hot and bothered."

He made a face and turned his eyes to the sparkling ocean. "Where's the rationale in sleeping with another man to make me jealous."

"I can't believe Jean was jealous…of me…"

Scott looked her over, eyes soft although cloaked in the ruby quartz shades he had worn since he was thirteen. "Shouldn't she be?"

Color flamed Rogue's cheeks, giggling, she shook her head. "I…Mr. Summers…"

"Rogue," he berated, tipping her chin, amazed he could touch her. Her skin was soft like velvet and he suppressed the urge to strum his thumb across the silky flesh. "You know better."

She lifted her eyes to his face and smiled. "Scott."

"That's better." He lowered his hand, almost sad to loose contact with her smooth skin. But what he was feeling was inappropriate. Not only was she still his student, he would be touching thirty in three years, while she'd barely graced the age of eighteen. She was a minor. Was he crazy?

"So," Rogue cleared her throat. "Have you thought about what you're going to do when we return to Westchester?"

"I know what I'm not going to do." She saw the edge in his expression, the tender throb of his jaw as he grounded his teeth. She knew he was wicked furious. He gave her a guarded look that sent chills through her body.

"The wedding is cancelled."

"Damn right it is."

She let out a breath. "Shucks, I had high hopes on being a bridesmaid." Scott laughed.

"I bet you'll look dazzling in a hot pink gown with lots of ruffles, big bows."

She smirked and lowered her head. "Yeah. I'll always look great…as…a bridesmaid."

Scott heard the sadness in her voice and eased closer, draping an arm about her shoulder. "But that's not you're fate anymore."

Tipping her head back, Rogue searched his face, overwhelmed by the warmth and concern emanating from the man who was her teacher. Her heart skipping, she trembled. Sensing her reluctance, Scott removed his arm, and added a safe distance between their bodies. The crash of waves on sandy bank overtook their conversation and the pair watched a huge Carnival ship move across the water. Rogue dug her fingers into the sand, made pictures, and built a small sandcastle.

"You never told me if you had that talk with the Professor."

"Talk," said Rogue, blinking her hazel green eyes.

Scott narrowed his eyes. "You're mutation…this sudden ability to touch…did you tell the Professor."

"What's the point? The whole school knows, I guess he knows to." She scoffed rolling her eyes. "I cured myself…whoopee!"

"Rogue," Scott said critically. "There could be more to this than meets the eye. What if there's something wrong?" Regret thinned his lips at the sight of her dark and hostile eyes.

"Wrong! You don't want me to get better?"

"Of course I do…" He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair.

"You want me to remain trapped inside my skin?"

"God no! Rogue. I was merely implying to fact that we should look into this. You're powers could be evolving and with this sudden onset of former powers you've absorbed…we don't know what to expect."

She clamped her arms about her torso. "Whatever's happening to me I'll take it all in stride. This is the best thing that's ever happened to me. You have no idea what it was like, always having to wear extra clothing, always having to be mindful. The fuckin' scrutiny." She blushed. "Sorry."

He grinned. "It's fine. And don't forget I know what you're going through," and he jiggled his shades a bit.

Rogue closed her eyes slowly then opened them. "God, I'm sorry. I forget." She yearned to reached out and stroke her finger down the side of his face. Instead, she clamped her hands in her lap. "Such a burden."

"I don't think of it that way," Scott said. "I've learned to accept what's happened to me and live with the sad fact that I'll never be able to see in color." He chuckled. "You know Jean…never mind."

"What?"

"She…uh, well…she's tried before to contain…my powers."

"Did she succeed?"

Scott shook his head. "It's funny. I just can't seem to stay pissed at her when I'm around you. Inside I want to scream and rant about what she's done, but around you I can only think about the good times. Things we were going to do, the things we could have done."

"Is that so bad?" Rogue asked.

He turned his head. "Yes…and…no. What was she thinking? I loved her didn't my words count for something."

Rogue shrugged as she thought about all the times she told Bobby she loved him. Yet he cheated on her with Kitty. "I guess she needed assurance."

"Fucking Logan was a way to gain my confidence, my love?" Anger twisted the handsome features of his face.

"In her twisted mind," Rogue whispered.

"You're right on that." Her eyes widened. She didn't believe he had heard her. "Sometimes I think being a telepath has made her crazy. A thousand thoughts bombarding her every day, it's bound to make her a little paranoid."

"It takes two to cheat Scott," Rogue pointed out. "What about Logan? How hard is it for him to keep it in his pants…I mean…he has Ms. Munroe.

"For a man like him, it's downright impossible to do anything." He said sourly.

"God! What she must be going through."

"Don't worry about Ororo," said Scott. "She's more resilient than you may think."

"I saw her crying the day Logan left. I think she might be in love with him."

His face hardened. "Pity."

"Is that all you're going to say?"

He tossed a look a Rogue. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know…I guess…"

"Look. I'm sad for 'Ro, but she's a grown woman and…" He released a puff of air and shook his head. "I really don't want to talk about this anymore."

Disgusted, Rogue levitated a stone, and hits Scott with it.

"Ow! What's that for!"

"For being heartless," she grunted.

"Rogue," he darkened. "I've just lost my fiancée, my self-respect in front of the students, and my pride all in one day. Heartless is all I have left." She caused another stone to rise and pellet his back.

"Ow! Quit it!"

"No," she said with a cheeky grin.

Growling, Scott dove for her; a terrible and idiotic maneuver on his part. His ribs flared, voicing their disapproval, a smarting pain ripped across his torso. His smile faded. Skin paling, he groaned in agony, narrowly collapsing on top of Rogue.

"Scott!" She cried, grabbing him by the upper arms, holding him steady. She laid him on the sand and smoothed his brown hair off his brow. "Silly. You forget you're an injured man."

"You…you…started it," he panted.

"Sorry," she sniffed.

He slowly turned his head. "I'm not dying Rogue."

"I know…damn Logan…"

"Don't cry for him either."

She giggled and hit him playfully. Sitting erect, she rested his head on her lap, and combed his hair with her fingers. "That's nice," he said.

"Don't get too comfortable. Todd will be back at any moment."

"I hope not," he smiled.

Patting his forehead, Rogue hummed a southern melody her mom taught a long time ago. Eyes closed, hands gently caressing Scott's forehead, she became lost into the mystic sounds of ocean waves churning, gurgling, and slamming into the shore.

"You're hands are hot," Scott commented.

Rogue popped her eyes open and looked down at the man lying in her lap. "What?"

"Hot," he said. "You're hands are really hot."

She plucked them away from his head. He frowned. "I'm sorry," she said rubbing them together.

"Don't be," Scott grinned and careened his head to left. "Uh oh, here's come Todd. Time's up." As he eased to a sit, he couldn't help but to notice that the pain in his side and back were gone. The ache in his head, which would increase due to prolong periods in the sun, had vanished. And his eyes weren't burning him. "Wow. I…uh, feel great. Fresh air did the trick." He stretched shocked he could do such a thing after being pummeled by Wolverine. He looked at Rogue. Her eyes were bulging out of their sockets. "Rogue, what's wrong?"

"You're…you're scares, you're bruises," she said quietly. "They're gone."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief

**Maui, Hawaii: Present Time**

…Same day…

Dr. MacTaggert's strict policies required Scott to remain in a wheel chair, while he was being rolled through the courtyard, and across the spacious foyer of the clinic. But he could hardly contain his enthusiasm let alone stay in his seat. A rush of energy had overtaken him. He was better, hell, to coin the phrase in 'tip top shape'. Even Todd was almost knocked off his feet when he rose without assistance. The orderly burst into the facility, startling employees, mutant patients taking refuge, as he hollered for Dr. MacTaggert.

A brunette of average height and medium build came out of an examination room looking very cross. "Todd? What on earth has gotten into you?"

"Nothin' short of a miracle mum." His mouth broadened into a bright smile, as he pulled the wheelchair to a halt. Folding back the leg rest, Scott got of the chair with ease.

"Goodness gracious," Moria exclaimed, a hand clapping her cheek. "Just a few days ago you appeared close to death, now here you are healthy as an ox."

"Thanks to an angel of mercy." Scott reached behind and took Rogue by the wrist, drawing her to his side. Somewhat confused, Moria tipped her head.

"Rogue?"

The young woman shook her head, her shoulders drooped a notch. "I don't know how it happened. Scott was lying in my lap…" Her cheeks burned red and her eyes flashed with embarrassment by the way Dr. MacTaggert arched a brow. Rogue quickly recovered the foolish slip she made. "I…uh, I meant…Scott was resting his head on my lap, he'd fallen, and I had my hand on his brow."

"I remarked on how her hand was hot," said Scott. He wasn't too at ease by the look Moria had given him. "Then when I rose and Rogue commented that the bruises on my face were gone."

Moria walked closer to Scott, adjusting her glasses, a clinical expression on her face. She looked at his face as if it were an x-ray pinned to a light panel. "Remarkable," she said astounded. "You're scars and bruises are gone." She wrenched off her glasses and turned to Rogue. "How did you do this?"

She shook her head, her platinum streaks bouncing off the sides of her face. "I don't know." She gripped her fingers in a tight squeeze. "I simply touched him…I…I…."

Moira gently patted the girl on the shoulder. Apparently, she was scared and a bit confused by the whole situation. After eighteen months of physical isolation from friends and loved ones, Moira was sure the girl was at her wits end. "It's alright dear. We'll find out what going on."

"Do I have to run some test?" Rogue asked nervously.

Dr. MacTaggert nodded. "It would be helpful, but first I'd like for us to talk. Xavier has informed me of your  _unique_ abilities, but have there been any new developments." Rogue stole a glance at Scott before nodding her head slowly. "Interesting. Todd, cancel the rest of my rounds. Ms. D'Ancanto and I are going to have talk." Her hand resting on Rogue's back, the two women started down the hall, before Moria paused and turned. "Scott. You might want to notify Charles that the two of you will be returning to mansion sooner than he believes."

Rogue saw the way he hardened on mention of returning to Westchester. He didn't seem too tickled by the idea. In fact, he didn't like it at all. "I'll keep it in mind. Rogue let me know if you need anything." At that, he headed in the opposite direction to his room.

"Come with me my dear," Moria said cheerfully, leading Rogue to her office.

()()()()

Over an hour into her conference with Dr. MacTaggert, Rogue found herself on an examination table on the east wing of the facility. Her stomach was in knots, her throat was dry. She hated doctors, and needles the worse. Perhaps it had something to do with the personality of a man who shall remain nameless. Nevertheless, blood was drawn; samples were taken in order to conjure a diagnosis to her condition. She enlightened Moria on all the mutants whose powers she'd come across, which would clarify how she was able to levitate the stones to hit Scott. A piece of Jean was bouncing in her brain. A freak accident during a pool party last summer. A game of water polo had turned into a desperate fight for the ball. Although, Rogue had been completely covered in a wet suit, Jean's bare hand had come in contact with her face.

Rogue sulked, rubbing her arms, disheartened by the memory. Once again she'd managed to spoil a wonderful day all because of her cursed skin. She couldn't imagine her relief when she discovered she could touch again. It was so liberating. She wanted to dance naked on the lawn, and sing till her throat was sore. She mostly wanted to seek out Bobby, but he was  _too_  busy. Rage roused. Too busy to see she was hurting all the time because of her powers. Too busy to give her the comfort she needed. Too busy sneaking around with _Kitty_. No wonder she turned to Scott for that bit of friendship she yearned, when everyone else was too frightened to come near her, he was there for her.

Now she was here for him.

She scooted off the table and wandered about the room. Leaning against the wall, she stared out a window, taking in the impressive view of the ocean. She located the spot on the beach where she and Scott talked and smiled in memory of his head in her lap. Her fingers running through his hair and the warmth of the sun on her back. No one around for miles, she blushed at the thought that came to her mind. It was impossible. She couldn't become involve with Scott. He was her teacher. It would be too weird. What would everyone else think? Sighing, she looked away, rubbing her hands; they were cold. It had been a simple touch that had restored his body. Simple, a brush on his forehead.

Healing?

She didn't recall gaining such a power. Not a soul came to mind. Unless, she counted Logan, but his mutation was self-regenerating, it had no inducing capabilities. She touched her temple, her head aching. What was taking Dr. MacTaggert so long? She hated waiting. Hated not knowing what was happening to her? She wished Scott was here. She couldn't stand this.

A knock came to the door startling her. She turned as it opened and gasped. "Scott!"

"I thought you might need someone here for you," he said.

Rogue ran to him, burying her face in the chest. "Thank you," she sighed, exhaling as he arms wrapped about her. They held each other for a moment, and then Rogue straightened and looked him in the face. "How are you feeling?"

Scott grinned. "Great. You?"

She pulled away, ripping her hand through her hair. "God! I'm going out of my mind. Where is Dr. MacTaggert? What's taking so long?"

Scott went to her, resting his hand on her shoulders, giving it a squeeze. "These things take time Rogue. We probably won't hear the results until tomorrow or so."

"This is why I didn't want to make a big fuss over this?" she scoffed, evading his touch. Her head was splitting in two. She wanted to lie down so badly.

"Rogue, the sooner we know what's going on, the better." He took her hand. "We'll deal with it all in stride…remember"

She glanced his way, eyes welling with tears. Struck, Scott came close, and wiped them away with his thumb. "You promise."

"Yeah," he whispered gently, stroking his fingers down the side of her face. "I promise."

Rogue softened against the brush of his fingers, pressing her cheek into the heat emanating from the tips. Although, slightly rough and callused, she thought Scott's hand was the softest thing she'd ever felt. Goose pimples broke out on her skin and she lifted her eyes once she felt his hand cup her cheek. She could almost see his eyes despite the blazing red shroud adorning his face. A thought came to mind. If she had indeed healed his infirmities, she pondered whether or not the injury in his head had been restored.

"Scott…"

"Rogue, I have you're…oh, Scott," Moira said, entering the private exam room, stunned to Scott. She saw the way the pair moved apart; a questioned bubbled in mind. "I thought you had adjourned to your room to rest."

"I couldn't sleep," said Scott. "And…I wanted to be here for Rogue."

"Doctor patient confidentiality is a policy of mine Mr. Summers," Moira expressed, setting the files in her possession on the counter. "I can't allow you to sit in this session."

"Rogue is a student of mine Dr. MacTaggert."

"I'm glad you are aware of that," she said in a clipped voice.

Scott tipped his head. "What is that supposed to mean," he said, disliking the sudden change in her attitude.

"Nothing," Dr. MacTaggert retrieved her file and put on her glasses then cast him a stern look. "I was merely expressing a point you've seemed to have misplaced."

"Now look…" Scott lashed out.

"Dr. MacTaggert," Rogue stepped in. "It's alright. I want Scott to be here. Either you tell us what happening to me or I tell him later, as a friend and leader of the X-Men he's going to find out anyway."

Moira looked between them then nodded. She didn't understand what came over her. She was just uncomfortable by the manner Scott was doting on his student. She didn't like it. Rogue was a minor. It didn't seem right.

"If you insist," she dragged a chair across the floor and sat down. Rogue hiked back onto the examination table, while Scott reclined near the counter. "At first, the tests were inconclusive. You're in right proper condition but the blood work showed no abnormalities of any kind."

"That's good," Scott said.

"Yes, if you would let me finish," Moria replied. "I wanted to be sure so I had the lab do an analysis of her DNA."

Rogue's interest peeked. She was literally on the edge of the table. "Yes."

"So far the results are inconclusive."

"What?"

"I'm sorry Rogue, generally this kind of tests take time." Moira closed her folder and rose. "I promise to fax my results as soon as I have them."

"Fax?"

"You are going back to the mansion are you?"

"Well…"

Astonished, Moira faced Scott. "Have you not notified Charles of your recovery?"

"It must have slipped my mind," Scott murmured and departed the room.

Alone, Dr. MacTaggert returned her attention to Rogue. "I hope you're not too disappointed."

Rogue hung her head, sighing. "Yes…no…maybe…I guess I can wait. I wasn't too anxious to find out anything anyhow." Sliding off the table, she walked to the door. "Thank you Dr. MacTaggert for everything. I guess I better start packing now." Moira nodded and watched her leave the room. The girl didn't appear too happy to be returning home.

()()()()

It was Friday morning when Scott and Rogue piled their luggage into the trunk of a taxi cab. Saying good bye to Dr. MacTaggert they climbed into the back and the cab took off down the driveway and through the security gate. It would be a busy day for the pair as far as traveling was concerned. First, they'd have to catch a ferry from Maui to the Big Isle. Secondly, they would have to catch another taxi to reach Honolulu International Airport in time for their flight. That's if the lines weren't too long.

Rogue looked out the window. The view was absolutely spectacular. Hawaii was breathtaking. How she wished she could have had a chance to stay and explore the island, take in the sights. Instead, she was on her way back to New York. Heading back to whatever drama that lay waiting to boil over into an outrageous catastrophe. She took a glimpse at Scott. He sat with a hard exterior, eyes pinned to the beach that spread out in front of him. She saw that something was bothering him.

"You okay?"

He turned his head, saying nothing at first. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Rogue frowned. He didn't sound optimistic. "You sure."

"No."

"I kind of figured that. I'm not too anxious about going back either, even though I'm missing my exams."

"I'm sure the Professor would allow you to make them up over the summer."

Rogue let out a rush of air, tucking an annoying strand of hair that had been blowing in the wind, behind her ear. "I hope so."

Scott looked at her. "He will. He understands what's happened? I'm sure he's made arrangements with all you're teachers."

"Including Jean?" She saw Scott's jaw hardened and swallowed.

"Let's not dwell on that."

"Well she is my Biology teacher," Rogue approached carefully. "And seeing how I've disappeared to Hawaii with her fiancé, a big fat F could we waiting for me."

"Don't worry Jean! She won't hurt you or me again!" He roared. His outburst took her by surprise and drew a curious glance from the driver. He saw he'd shaken her and was apologetic. "I didn't mean to scream at you. I'm just frustrated that's all."

"We could check into a hotel, stay here for a little while. Calm down...take a swim." Rogue suggested.

"I would like to but the Professor called me last night."

Stunned, she spun in her seat. "What?"

"Yes, at four a.m. our time."

"So, he called you again after you left the exam room to…"

"I left because I didn't like the assumptions Dr. MacTaggert was rising to," he said stiffly.

"What assumptions?"

He turned his head. "Assumptions about us."

Rogue caught her breath. "Oh."

Scott grinned. "Rogue, I care about you, but you're also my student. I have to bear that in mind. I don't want people to view our relationship as something torrid or dirty." He laid his hand on top of hers. "I want our relationship to stay exactly the way it is."

Mouth agape, she stared at Scott, then flashed a thin smile. He cared about her, but didn't feel what was slowly worming its way into her heart. She beginning to feel something for Scott and it was becoming more than this friendship they'd built. However, he was older and she was his student, not to mention he was still brooding over Jean. Rogue closed her eyes. Her life would seem so funny if it wasn't so damn complicated. "So what now?" she asked.

"I think it's time we the clear air." He said, jaw throbbing.

Rogue understood. They were going home. Hawaii would have to wait till another day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief

**Westchester, New York: Present Time**

Frustration crowding her thoughts, Jean scribbled through the endless stack of Biology reports piled on her desk. Grading papers was easy; getting her mind to stay focused was difficult. Every so often her mind would flash with images. Of Rogue and Scott naked on the sandy beaches of Hawaii, kissing, and frolicking like two sea otters. Her mood grew foul. She gripped her red magic marker, slashing through one report at a time, pinpointing every tiny mistake.

Why  _did_ the Professor send him to Hawaii? Wasn't he getting the best medical attention here at the mansion? And why send that mousy little southerner? To give them some more alone time? Jean burned with anger as she worked tirelessly to finish the last two reports before class came into session.

"Terrible," she barked, combing her hand through her red hair, and stamping a big red C- at the top of Bobby's paper. "I expected a lot more from you Mister Drake."

She flipped his paper onto another pile and picked up and glared at Jubilee's paper. The girl had been troublesome, standing up for Rogue since this entire episode went down. She'd even spread that despicable rumor that she'd seduced Logan into bed. Well, naturally, it was true but it gained her ridicule and tainted the student's perfect image of her. And one thing Jean didn't like was to be viewed as a skanky little harlot.

Exhaling, she slapped Jubilee's paper down, twirling the marker in her fingers while her eyes blazed across the black letters page after page. Minutes later a large D- graced the Asian girl's paper and she tossed it aside. "Horrendous," she muttered, scowling. This was ridiculous. She had better things to do with her time. Rebuilding her relationship with Scott was more important than sitting here grading the papers of fifteen incompetent children. Had nothing she taught them this semester taken root?

She thrust the last of her toil to one side and etched the grade point averages into her manual. She noticed one students' box was empty and glared at the name jutting out at her offensively. Rogue. Damn that girl! She was the reason she'd done what she thought was necessary to save what future she had with Scott. Now she was globetrotting with him, tending to wounds she should be caring for. She blinked away the image of him lying downstairs in the medical ward, mangled, broken, and collected her workload together. She straightened as the first bell rang.

Exams had come to an end.

The semester was nearly over.

All she had to do was get through this last class, and she would see to the arrangements, and fly out to Hawaii on the first flight. She was going to put a stop this sick and foolish charade Scott and Rogue were playing. She was going to put that little tot on a plane and send her home, if she didn't strangle her to death first, and Scott would see reason. He had to. After all the time they'd spent and the hours they'd invested in their relationship. He was going to throw it all away? And for what a child?

She wasn't going to let him. She made one simple mistake. He had to forgive her for that.

Boisterous squeals and laughter invaded her solace as students trampled into her classroom.  _Wonderful,_ Jean huffed bitterly to herself. Easing out of her chair, she stalked to the front of her desk, leaning against the sturdy furniture.

"Alright," she sighed. "Settle down now."

The room grew deathly still as students hopped into their seats. Jean felt cautious glances, heard tiny whispers, and steeled her nerves. It was going to be a long hour. She zoomed in on Jubilee who'd made no attempt to hide her disdain. The cocky Asian was chewing and popping her gum with the slightest care. She rolled her eyes at Jean and turned to trade words with Kitty.

Jean cocked her head. "Miss Lee?"

Jubilee swiveled in her chair, tipping her head, eyes widening. "Yes, Ms. Grey," she responded sweetly, annoying Jean.

"Spit out the gum."

"Where would like me to put Ms. Grey?" she asked, batting her eyelids sweetly.

Surging, Jean stomped to her desk. "You can choke on it for all I care. Just get it out of your mouth." A wave of gasps erupted from the students and Jean glanced around darkly. Heads fell to their desks.

Casually, Jubilee opened her binder, tore out a sheet of paper and spat her gum into it. She crumpled the paper and tossed into a nearby trash bin. "Swish," she said triumphantly and turned to stare Jean boldly in the face.

"Well," Jean said, rankled, walking back to her desk. "If it weren't for this little disturbance, I would have told you all already that I've graded you're Biology reports and I must say I'm very disappointed." Moans resonated about the room.

Walking down the aisle, Jean dropped each student's report on the desk, receiving a cry of disappointment and dismay.

"C- !" Bobby gaped, gripping his paper.

"I had expected a lot more Bobby," said Jean. She circled by Jubilee and each time failed to give the girl her paper. Jean made sure to hand out everyone's report first before dropping Jubilee's like a useless scrap sheet of paper in front of her.

"D? What the hell?" Eyes wide, she looked her grade in pure horror. "Ms. Grey? This has got to be like a mistake?"

Jean folded her arms about her chest. "Oh," she said coolly. "It's no mistake. As it goes for the rest of you. I'm extremely disappointed in all of you."

"Ms. Grey, this has to be a mistake," Jubilee cried. "I busted my ass on this paper."

"So did I," added Bobby.

"Me too," a few other students concurred.

"Well, I was grading on a curve." She walked behind her desk and leaned forward on the back of her chair. "Some of you are lucky to receive the grades you have now."

"Or maybe you're grading out of bitterness and spite."

Jean arched a brow, eyes glittering. "Is that so Miss Lee?"

"I think it is too so," the girl raged. "You're just pissed off Mr. Summers finally saw you for the slut you really are and decided to move on!"

Everyone gasped in the room. Jean's face darkened; she was beyond livid. "How dare you speak to me that way in my classroom? And Scott move on? With who, Rogue, she's just child! What? Do you want to see one of your teachers in jail?"

"Who says they have to do anything? I know Mr. Summers isn't stupid. But he was dumb for getting involved with you!"

Jean could feel her anger boiling to the point of insanity. If murder wasn't a capital offense, she would suffocate the wench in a telekinetic bubble. "I'd watch my tongue if I were you Miss Lee."

Jubilee narrowed her eyes. "Or what? You can't hurt me." She scrambled out of her chair. "And as for this grade. It's bullshit! You did it on purpose to get back at me."

Jean walked forward, eyes dark and menacing. "Sit down Jubilee."

"No way!" She yelled shaking her head. "No freakin' way. It's the last day of school, I'm outta here." She turned sharply, snatching up her book bag, and kicking the door open she stomped out the classroom. A wealth of eyes followed the riling mutant; the last thing they saw was her yellow coat exiting the door.

"If anyone else feels the same way as Miss Lee," Jean remarked, doing her ever best to curb her temper. "Please feel free to follow her example." To her surprise, she heard the scratch of metal across the marble floor, the shuffle of books, and scornful muttering about grades. In less than five minutes her class was empty and she alone stood.

()()()()

During the past few days, Ororo spent her time confined to her bedroom. She came out only to teach her classes, oversee the reconstruction of her beloved greenhouse, and have a word or two with the Professor. Yet the rest of her hours were spent behind the safe closed doors of her room. It wasn't intentional but necessary. She just couldn't trust herself around Jean. Her deceit ate away at her like a festering cancer and her heart ached for Logan. Tender emotions combined, she was a force to be reckoned with. It took a lot to apologize to the Professor, and admit she was wrong in attacking Jean when in her heart she was merely justifying her pain.

Logan wasn't the moon to her, but he was sweet companionship. Her lover. When Jean wasn't swarming like a fly, displaying herself on a silver platter, he was fun and charismatic. He made her laugh and they had relatively good times together. He removed her safety net and pushed her to the edge a little. She discovered a wild side she never thought possible, and was stunned that she enjoyed a beer or two.

But all of that changed.

Jean was the cause; she created the rift. Ororo knew in her heart she could never be with Logan again, not after he slept with her. Why? She couldn't understand it. Disgusted, she ran her fingers into her white hair, and started pacing her room. She was too upset to sleep, too emotional to think. A queasy sensation gripped her stomach. Nauseous, she ran to the bathroom, and threw herself over toilette. She coughed and groaned as she emptied her stomach.

A little while later, she dragged her weary body out the bathroom and froze, stunned to see the Professor in her room. "Charles?"

"Are you alright my dear?"

Ororo quirked an eyebrow, tossing a damp rag onto the table. "That's understatement," she said in a snide comment and sat down on her bed.

Xavier disregarded her last statement and wheeled closer. "How are you? Really?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. "I almost killed my best friend, well, formerbest friend. How do you expect me to feel?"

"Ororo…I want you to know…"

"You know what," she spat. "Spare me any of your thoughts or sentiment. You could have stopped this…prevented all of this. You could have persuaded Jean in some way not to act like a brazen hussy!"

"It's not in my nature to get involved in people's private affairs," said the Professor, alarmed by her hostility.

"Please," she hissed. "You always doted Jean, pampered her, because you two were in sync it came to your powers."

The Professor frowned. "That's not true Ororo. I care and love you all as if you were…"

"But you fancied her the most, which is why you always let her get away with some…"

"Ororo, enough!" Xavier snapped.

She looked away sobbing quietly as she quenched her feelings. Suddenly, she covered her mouth with her hand. Sickness gripped her savagely and she rose to take flight into the bathroom. The Professor leaned back in his chair as if his suspicions had been confirmed. He wasn't certain, but he felt the faint emissions of brainwaves, billions of neurons growing at an alarming rate. He knew now what was troubling Ororo, besides this fiasco threatening to rip the mansion apart.

"Have you made any arrangements?" The Professor inquired his face grim.

"Arrangements to what?" Ororo asked puzzled.

"On whether or not you want to remain here to raise your child." She laughed as though the old man had lost his mind, yet when his expression didn't alter, she paled. "You don't know," he said simply.

"I…"

Ororo touched her brow, confusion and disbelief preventing words from forming in her brain. Could it be? The nausea. The inability to sleep. She thought it was anger and grief making her hormones all out of whack. Was she pregnant? Was it possible? Weak, she searched for the bed before sitting. She thought back to last time she had her period, which was erratic, even on birth control, it never truly regulated; it was a good long while since she had it. She wasn't sure because her thoughts were…elsewhere.

Could I be?

Was she pregnant?

No.

Impossible.

Logan…God…a baby. No! Wait…the Professor was joking. Was he? Surely there had to be some logical reason to this…her period would show. Would it?

Xavier felt her thoughts buzzing and inched closer in his chair. He reached out and took her hand in his. "You have to be sure Ororo?"

She took a sharp breath of air, trembling. "I…I, uh, need a pregnancy test."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief

**Westchester, New York: Present Time**

… _midnight hour…_

"I…I, uh, need a pregnancy test…" Ororo stammered in between sniffles and hiccups. Never in her life had she been as nervous or as frightened as she was at this moment. A baby? She was still freakin' out about the possibly of being pregnant with Logan's child. She didn't know whether she should be thrilled or repulsed by the fact that man's seed was growing inside her. This wasn't exactly a planned pregnancy; she wasn't even prepared. And Logan…hell…he didn't look like the fatherly type. She shivered and gripped the Professor's hand, somehow needing a connection, needed support.

"Does Hank keep any pregnancy tests here in the school?" The Professor asked.

The weather goddess nodded slowly before gradually lifting her eyes to her mentor, friend, and father figure. "Yes…he keeps…a few downstairs…just in case…" Her voice trailed, her face burning with embarrassment. Xavier understood. Just because they ran a school for mutants, doesn't mean he didn't have an assembly of students with raging, teenage hormones. So far, to his relief, they're had been no surprises.

He wheeled his chair closer. "You have to be sure," he said tipping her chin.

"Yes," she exhaled and rose steadily to her feet.

Stepping around the Professor, she slipped out her room, and padded barefoot down the hall. She took the stairs two at time and walked swiftly to the elevator secluded in a wall on the east wing of the school. She pressed her hand to a scanner and it opened. Authorized members of the X-Men were allowed access to this particular elevator for it led to the lower levels. A quick descent, the hatch slide open, and Ororo made her way to the storage room. All the medicine and equipment were kept there. She looked around to see if anyone was in the vicinity then entered. Switching on the lights, she went to a cabinet and drew out a First Response pregnancy test. Her fingers were cold and shaking as she slipped the package in her pants pocket.

"Ororo?"

Gasping, she spun on her toes, finding Hank standing in the doorway. She quickly drew her sweater down and smiled. "Hank, I didn't know you were down here."

"I was doing inventory," he said, as a large, furry, blue hand removed his glasses. "Was there something you needed in here?"

She froze. "Uh, yes…cough medicine," she giggled, tucking a white strand behind her ear. "I just can't seem to find any."

Hank entered the storage room. His massive girth consumed the small space leaving Ororo tucked in a corner. He reached out, pushed aside the sliding glass, and plucked a bottle of Robitussin cleanly off the shelf.

"My goodness," Ororo exclaimed tapping her head. "I swear it would have jumped out and bit me."

"Right," Hank smiled and closed the cabinet.

"Thanks." Turning, she hurried back to her room where the Professor sat waiting patiently for her return.

"Do you have it?"

"I feel like a teenager hiding this secret from my parents."

Xavier put his chair in motion and stopped in front of her. "This is nothing to be ashamed of."

Ororo shook her head. "Speak for yourself," she groaned and pushed away from the door. As she headed to the bathroom, she set the bottle of Robitussin on the table.

"What's that?" asked the Professor.

"Cough medicine."

He frowned. "Why do need medicine? Are you sick?"

"No. Hank was down in the lower levels," she closed her eyes. "Inventory. Anyway, he caught me in the storage room…I was too ashamed to let him see that I needed a pregnancy test."

"Oh."

She bit her lip and looked into the bathroom. "I…I think I can go. Wish me luck." She stopped in her tracks and glanced back at the Professor. "Wrong choice of words."

Xavier gave her a reassuring smile and watched as she entered and closed the door behind her. Fifteen minutes went and by then he was at his wits end. He was so nervous it was as if he had taken the test himself. What was taking so long? Where was Ororo? Perhaps she couldn't go to the bathroom and had to drink some water and wait. If so, he would surely die from a nervous breakdown. Normally, in these situations, it was the boyfriend or husband sitting in his position; not a crippled old man such as himself. He never felt a more greater reason in his life to contact Logan and force him to return to mansion.

But it would only upset Ororo…and Jean…and Scott…and Rogue…

Oh, the list went on and on.

Some of the students, Jubilee in particular, didn't fancy him at the moment either. Feeling weary, he tried to meditate on something other than this calamity. Sadly, his thoughts found no solace in blue skies and singing birds. His eyes shot open when heard the toilette flush. Hearing the tap run, he monitored the door closely. Sweat beaded his brow as the door knob turned. Ororo filled out the bathroom, her sky blue eyes shallow, face drawn.

The Professor could hardly contain his anticipation. "Well?"

Ororo lowered her eyes. "I'm pregnant."

"Ororo…"

She lifted her hand. "Don't…" She could feel her head splitting; the room was spinning. Her last desire was to listen to the Professor babble on and on about how her circumstances.

"Please…let me help you." He came towards her, taking her hand.

"Help me," she cried wrenching free from his touch. "Where were you when I truly needed your help? Where were you when I was happy and Jean was plotting to seduce Logan?"

"Ororo…"

"I don't need your help," she hollered going to the door and yanking open. "I need you to leave."

There was no arguing with her. Once Ororo had set her mind to something, heaven and earth had to move in order to change her mind. Sighing, the Professor touched the knob and rolled his chair out of her bedroom. Alone, overwhelmed, Ororo sank to her knees and wept, a hand cupping her flat stomach.

"What am I going to do?"

()()()()

"You've got to do something Professor," Jubilee screamed. She stood in his office two days later, frantic, waving her Biology report in the air. "Ms. Grey's, like, totally gone ballistic. D-! I know I deserve better than this lousy grade. I worked hard, really I did. She did it on purpose!"

Charles Xavier was in no mood to listen to another one of his student bicker about their grade. In fact, he'd seen nearly all of Jean Grey's students, and doubt he could put up with one more riling child. "Yes, yes, yes, Jubilee," he exhaled, closing his eyes, a pain in his head. "Just leave your paper on my desk with the others and I'll overlook your essays myself and have a word with Jean."

"Thank you." Dumping her paper on top of numerous others she whirled around and stormed out the room.

The Professor sifted through the great amount of paperwork on his desk and let out a huge breath of air. Glorious. This was all he needed at a time like this. He was too preoccupied with Ororo's situation to worry about Jean cheating her students out of their grades. But he had no choice. One problem at a time and this  _was_ important. He leaned in his chair and selected the first report nearest to him.

"This can't be right," he said as he read the fine print. His mind as sharp as his eyes, he breezed through the entire stack in two hours. "What are you doing Jean? Bobby deserves better than his."

He tossed Bobby's essay on his desk and summoned Jean telepathically. To his astonishment, she didn't respond to him immediately. He summoned twice more with no reply. His patience running thin he sent out a stronger telepathic signal to her again.

 _Yes_ , she replied, sounding annoyed.

_I want to see you in my office Jean right away. Don't let me ask for you again._

Minutes later, Jean graced him with her presence, sitting legs crossed in front of him. "Yes," she said with an air of coldness.

"I called you three times. Where were you?"

"If you must know," she huffed. "I've decided to take an impromptu vacation and was making arrangements with an airline."

Xavier tipped his head. "You wouldn't be planning to travel to Hawaii, are you?"

Jean shrugged. "Why not? I hear it's absolutely glorious, especially this time of year. Plus I'd like to lay out on the sand and get a nice tan."

"You wouldn't try to swing by Dr. MacTaggert's facility would you?"

"Why not? Scott is my fiancé," she stated. "I want to see if he's doing alright."

"He's fine. I've just spoken to him the other night. He and Rogue are flying back as we speak, so you might as well save your money." The Professor was not deceived. He knew exactly what she was up to and would not see Rogue harmed in anyway. He knew Jean too well. Jealousy and possessiveness were one of her dark attributes.

"Well," Jean rose out of her chair. "If that's all you wanted to talk to be about, I'll be going…"

Xavier held up his hand, motioned her to take her seat. "I'm not done." He snatched up Bobby's report and tossed in front of her. "I want to talk to you about this."

Jean rolled her eyes. "Charles, whatever any those children have said…"

"They didn't have to tell me anything," he said in a clipped voice, tossing Bobby paper before her. "I've read their reports myself and graded them accordingly. Jean, what are you doing? You're robbing these children of their future."

"So I'm a tough grader," she argued. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Xavier's eyes narrowed, "but not when Bobby deserves an A rather than that C- you graced him with and Jubilee..."

Jean flew into a temper. "I suspected that girl is the cause of this little meeting we're having. I hoped she enlightened you on how rude and disrespectful she was to me yesterday."

"I'm aware of what happened and I will coach her for it." The Professor said. "But as far as I'm concerned, you have no right to dock any of their grades because you and Scott are having problems. You'll just have to deal with that on your own time." He picked up Bobby's paper and rotated his chair to the computer on his left hand side. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to enter these grades into the system and average out their final grade point averages… _again_."

Rising, Jean stormed out the Professor's office. Her dark mood exuberated, causing several students to duck and hide. As she turned left, she collided unknowingly into Ororo. The African woman gasped sharply as she stumbled. Jean struggled to gain her footing before she felt the searing glare of the weather goddess' eyes. She turned suddenly, struck by the cobalt pupil glimmering with hate.

"Watch your step. You might have an unfortunate mishap and break your pretty little neck," said Ororo, low and even toned.

Jean threw back her head. "I'm glad to see you have my welfare in mind."

The white haired woman took a step, shadows casting an odious gloom on her face. "I'm not going to kill you," she whispered, "but don't expect me to be nice to you when you disgust me."

With that, Ororo took a step to the right, and continued down the hall without a backwards glance.

Struck, Jean stared opened mouthed.

"Yes, come." The Professor said at the sound of a knock on his door. He was finalizing the grade point averages in his computer and sending it to print. By morning, the new grades will be posted on the bulletin board.

Ororo poked her head inside. "Can we talk?"

Xavier brightened. "Storm," a smiled growing on his mouth. "Yes, of course. Do come in. How are you?"

Ororo swept inside and took a seat in one of the chairs situated in front of his desk. "I'm fine. I've come to a decision on whether or not I want to keep the baby."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief

**Westchester, New York: Present Time**

Ororo entered the Professor's office. Closing the door, she turned the latch, securing it so they wouldn't be interrupted. She wanted Xavier's full attention and to ensure no one would walk in on their private conversation. She didn't want anyone to know she was pregnant. Not yet. Not until she had everything sorted out. She crossed the floor and took seat in a chair in front of his desk.

The Professor took note of her disheveled state and the clothes she still wore from two nights before. He saddened. Ororo had been struggling internally yet had refused his assistance.

"I, uh,…I've decided to keep…the baby. I know I have issues…with its  _father_ …arrangements will have to made. I will have to…step down from the X-Men… but this baby…it's mine and I want it." Every word was strained and chocked as she fiddled with her fingers nervously. She swallowed, lifting her blue eyes slowly to the Professor, searching his face for a reaction. His expression was warm and calm.

"I understand Ororo and if there is anything you need don't be afraid to ask," he said when he saw she'd given him an opportunity to speak.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I'm sorry about…"

"Forgiven," he held up his hand, shaking his head. They sat quietly for a minute, simultaneously pondering an unspoken question that tossed in their brains. "Are you going to tell him?"

Ororo squeezed her eyes shut. "I knew you were going say that."

"He is the father."

Her pupils flashed angrily. "Just because a guy knocks you up…doesn't…make him  _a_ father."

"But it makes him  _the_ father," Xavier pointed out. "Ororo, what if there is some medical emergency with the baby and Logan is the only one who could help."

"I will deal with it if such an event ever occurs," she yelled. "But what does it matter. I know you've just been in contact with him." She pushed out the chair and narrowed her eyes darkly at him. "I know when you're using you're telepathy Professor, you get a small crinkle in between the bridge of your nose." Whirling around, she stormed out of his presence.

Distressed, he let out a heavy sigh and cringed as the door to his office slammed closed. He wasn't astonished by Storm's reaction to Logan's eventual return, but relieved she didn't act upon her temper. Nevertheless, choices had to be made. Since no one in the mansion felt compelled to bring this issue to an end, he was going to make the necessary arrangements.

Not matter the cost.

()()()()

"Are you ready?" Rogue asked as she and Scott sat in a private car outside the mansion. She had been reading his expression the whole trip up from Hawaii and it was growing darker by the minute. Not even the thought of seeing the Professor and Ororo again had brightened his mood. "We don't have to do this now. If you like we could check into a hotel back in the city. We can notify the Professor and let him know we're in New York."

"You'll say anything to stay the hell away from this place won't you," Scott muttered.

Mouth agape, she tucked a platinum strand behind her ear. "I was just saying we don't have to do this now."

"I want to do this now Rogue."

"And listen to her lies and every sorry explanation she could conjure to sway your thinking," she cried.

"I'm not going to let Jean have the last word. Your damn right she's going to explain."

"Scott," she mumbled eyes downcast, "I really don't want to be here right now. I don't feel welcomed."

She recalled all the awful whispers and looks she received wherever she went. It chilled her to the bone…especially Bobby; his behavior had grown callous and condescending. But he shouldn't talk, he shouldn't even blink. He was the one who cheated not her… and with Kitty.

Scott turned in his seat. "Rouge, I'm sorry I wasn't there…"

"You were not supposed to be there for me Scott, Bobby was and he…." she felt the tears burning the inside of her eyes. Embarrassed, she hastily felt the side of the door for the lock. "Look! Just forget what I said. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

He reached out and took her arm, hauling her back into the car before she could make her escape. Rogue cast him a look of shock then her features softened upon sight of the gentleness she somehow knew was lighting in his eyes. A thought bloomed in her mind as her gazed drifted over his face. She remembered that pinnacle moment where his bruises and scars had disappeared simply because she touched him. She wondered about his eyes; an accident as a child denied him the ability to control his powers.

She wondered. Could it be possible?

"Scott." It came out like a wispy breeze she wasn't sure it was her voice.

"Yes," he answered his grip on her arm gentling.

She shifted close as though she were about to express a secret. "Let me see your eyes."

Scott drew back astounded, shaken, and utterly perplexed. "What?"

Rogue's fingers trailed up to his face and brushed his shades. "I want to see your eyes."

Swiftly, Scott caught her wrist and yanked her hand away. "No," he cried, almost painfully. "No."

A frown pulled the corners of her mouth down, her eyes deepening with anguish and unbidden courage. "If I healed your scars," she said. "I wonder…let me see your eyes Scott."

Uncertainty gathered in his mind like a fog. He watched with hesitation as Rogue's small hand caressed his visors, slowly drawing them off the bridge of his nose. He clamped his eyes shut, out of habit, out of fear he would blast her to the next county.

Rogue smiled, cupped his face, marveling at how handsome he was. "Open them," she said softly. "You won't hurt me sugar."

He let out a breath, swallowing; his eyes fluttered, gradually, he opened one lid at a time. A rush of color and bright light flooded his pupils and he flinched. Lack of real use sent pain to back of his cornea and he blinked rapidly for several minutes.

"Are you all right?"

Scott rubbed his eyes. "I guess…this is amazing."

She giggled. She rested the tips of her two fingers underneath his chin and turned his face in her direction. "Look at  _me_ Scott."

He raised his head, marking pale skin, a full pink mouth, and wholesome brown eyes. He gasped in amazement. "Rogue…you're so…"

She grazed his temple with the tips of her fingers, lightly caressing his chin. "Beautiful," she completed wistfully.

"Yes." He took her wrist in his hand. "What did you do to me?"

_A good question. One I would love to discuss in greater detail._

The Professor's voice was an undesired invasion in their minds, and thrust the pair as far apart in the car as they could go. Scott's face contorted angrily. He put on his visors, shoved out of the car, followed by a somberly quiet Rogue. The driver had long set their bags on the stoop in front of door and had been enjoying a cigarette break, while his customers occupied his time and vehicle. They were paying a good chunk of change so he didn't care if they continued to run the meter.

Scott gave him a hefty tip, picked up Rogue's suitcase, and entered the household. He, on other hand, had no baggage but the suit of clothing Dr. McTaggert had provided. Clothing wasn't essential for he'd been wearing a hospital gown for the last six days he was in Hawaii. In fact, a whole entire month, thanks to Logan's  _gentle_ ministrations. The memory flared his already fizzled temper as he set Rogue's bags in the foyer.

"Home sweet home," Scott sighed.

"It's quiet," said Rogue, looking around.

"Too quiet," he grunted, dropping her bags onto the tiled floor.

"Kitty! I've like totally got the Oreo cookies and milk, you can start the soap."

Scott shook his head. "I spoke too soon."

Jubilee bounced into the foyer, carrying a plate of milk and cookies, and stopped in her tracks. "Rogue? Mr. Summers?" she gasped in disbelief. "You're back!"

Rogue gave her roommate a timid wave, while Scott simply nodded. "Thanks for carrying my bags in Sc—I mean—Mr. Summers."

She caught herself before she uttered his first name in front of her roommate. But as she turned she saw the question rise in Jubilee's eyes. Lowering, she heaved her belongings off the floor, passing her friend without a secondary glance.

Jubilee gazed at her teacher inquisitively. Scott met her eyes with equal intensity, tipping his head when she didn't back down. "It's nice to have you home Mr. Summers," she said with an air of amusement in her tone. "You're looking okay I guess."

"Thank you Jubilee.."

Nodding, she made a sharp turn, not for the rec room, but towards the stairs. Scott narrowed his eyes; it was obvious the little firecracker was out to interrogate Rogue about their stay in Hawaii. He grimaced. If Jubilee wasn't such a loud mouth, she would have made one hell of a police detective. Snooping around was her specialty. He stayed his thoughts as he too journeyed up the winding staircase. His stomach twisted with each step towards his bedroom. A room he shared with a woman he deeply loved, a woman he once desired to marry, a woman who betrayed him the worst possible way.

Entering their bedroom, Scott cringed. Jean's perfume was rich, coating the air in its alluring fragrance. There was a time when he was swept away by her intoxicating scent, now, the smell rankled him to the core. His nose crinkled in sheer disgust; he felt sick to the stomach. He wasted no time. Dragging a suitcase out the closet, Scott tugged down his shirts and pants, throwing them in heaps into the open baggage. He stalked to the dresser and took out his socks and underwear. Spying a picture of him and Jean snuggled close on a park bench. He picked it up, stared at it, and then tossed it into the garbage.

"What are you doing," came Jean's perplexed inquiry.

Hardening, Scott stiffened momentarily, before commencing his mission to clean out his stuff and leave. "What does it look like? I'm leaving."

Jean stared, flabbergasted, frozen in the doorway. "Why?"

The statement was so ridiculous he let out a harsh snort. "Why the hell you think Jean? You cheated. Hence, the end of our relationship…of any damn relationship." He wadded a pair of boxers and chucked them into his suitcase. Normally, he was a perfectionist; a neatness freak some might call him. Today, he really didn't care if his socks were color coded and his pants were properly folded. He just wanted to get out of there.

Jean stepped inside, closing the door. "Scott…please…hear me out…I never meant to hurt you."

"You know," he sighed. "I think that's exactly what you meant to do. There's a part of you that's just…cruel…vindictive…and thinks that the only way you can control me…is…to hurt me."

"No," Jean cried, going over to his side. She wanted so much to hold him, but she saw how he took a step back when she came close. "I've been so out of sorts these last months…my powers…it's been going out of whack. Since the Liberty Island incident, I've been unable to maintain what's happening to me…you and Rogue were spending so much time together. I thought you might have had a thing for her…I got so confused…scared I might lose you…"

"And that's to excuse what you did," he glowered. "Why the fuck didn't you just come to me…step to me like a woman…instead seeking out Logan's company like a bitch in heat."

She gasped in alarm. Never in the years she shared with Scott had she heard him utter a foul word in disrespect. Even when he was obviously enraged about a particular situation, he was always calm, polite, and respectful. Right at this moment, Jean did not know this angry man standing before her.

"Scott," she whispered, splaying out her hands, tears slipping down her face. "I…I don't know how it happened…I…"

"I think it's safe to say you both had sex," he rasped, pinning his gaze on her. The sight of her tears enraged him further and he forcefully curbed the desire to blast her through the window.

"No," she exhaled, wiping the tears from her face. "I mean…how…did…we get…so far gone."

He lowered his head, turning aside, to pick up his book off the nightstand. He gripped the hard back binding then dropped it in his suitcase. "I don't know. But never for an instant would I play with your heart like this. Trample it to a thousand pieces."

"Now wait a minute," Jean shot back. "How can you say that when I've seen the way you've behaved around Rogue!"

"What?"

"Don't act so innocent Scott. I've seen you touching her, teasing her, running your hands through her hair. I've seen how you are when you think no one was looking," she fired. "You're her teacher! It's disgusting."

Scott swung around extremely livid. "Hold it. I won't deny that I care about Rogue…there're feelings…yes…but never did I once in my mind…acted on them…Jesus Jean! Why Logan huh? You know how I feel about him. Did it make you feel good to humiliate me before the whole school."

Feeling ill, Jean sank slowly to the bed, her strength dissipating with released breath. "Forgive me…please."

"Not this time."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief.

 

**Westchester, New York: Present Time**

"So?"

"So…what?" Rogue retorted as she bounded down the stairs, arms laden with a basket of dirty clothes, making a sharp right to the elevator that would lead to the basement, and the washing machine.

"So…what…Rogue?" Jubilee cried testily, marching in avid steps behind her friend.

Since returning to the mansion, Rogue had said nothing about her little adventure with their teacher. Not that it was a romantic escapade. The man, literally, had to be wheeled out of the household. But the very idea of being alone with a cute guy on a beautiful island, such as Hawaii, sparked her imagination to overload. And wouldn't it put a permanent crease in Ms. Grey's plans to reconcile with her fiancé, if something did occur between Rogue and Mr. Summers.

"What happened in Hawaii?"

"Besides Mr. Summers being bed ridden for a week," the southerner yelled over her shoulder. "Nothing."

"You're lying."

Rogue turned sharply in her sandals, shifting the heavy bulk of clothes, she glared at Jubilee. "Why would I be lying?"

"Because I caught that little slip of the tongue, Rogue," the Asian remarked. "Since when are the two of you, like, on a first name basis?"

Looking away, Rogue exhaled, while desperately trying to conceal the hint of color rising in her cheeks. "We're just friends Jubes."

"Ah ha!" Jubilee squealed in delight, arching a brow deviously. "So, something did happen."

"Oh you're impossible." Rogue cried, lifting a hand in the air, turning to continue to the elevator. Pushing a button, the door slid open and she stepped inside, and frowned when Jubilee chose to join her. "I don't think there's room enough for the two of us."

"What do you mean by that?" Jubilee asked completely clueless.

"Never mind," Rogue muttered and pressed the button for the basement. Meanwhile, Jubilee jabbered on like a monkey in a tree, probing her with questions, occasionally dishing out the latest gossip, and relating on the incident between her in Ms. Grey.

"Like, god, it's not my fault you and Mr. Summers are having problems," she said as they walked down the long metallic blue hallway towards the washroom. "You don't have to take it out on us kids."

"Did the Professor take care of it?"

Jubilee nodded. "He sure did…or I was going to." As she lifted her hands they sparked and flashed as a bright electrical current emanated from her fingers.

"I bet you would," Rogue said, a sly grin on her face, while tossing heaps of clothes into the washing machine. Adding liquid detergent and fabric softener, she set the machine, closed the lid and climbed onto it.

"Planning on moving back in," Jubilee asked after a bit. "Kitty and I miss you."

Rogue's demeanor soured. She'd briefly forgotten Kitty and Bobby had been sleeping around and was filled with a sick sense. She shoved off the machine and walked about the room. "I think I'd stay by the lake a little while longer."

Jubilee cocked her head curiously. "Why? Everyone knows you can touch now, there's nothing to fear…"

"Fear?" Rogue gave her a sharp look. "Fear!"

Jubilee went pale and shook her hands in defense. "I didn't mean to make it sound like…"

"Forget it. I've always known I was an outcast even among friends." She rubbed her hands together, still covered in her gloves, still scared to take them off. She couldn't understand why? Perhaps it's because she was used to them. In fact, most of the time, she couldn't sleep unless she was wearing grandma's nightgown.

A soft tap at the door, she whirled around upon sight of Scott pushing his head through the door. He looked terrible. A five o'clock shadow graced his face and his hair was disheveled. Rogue's heart went out to him. Obviously, he was suffering a great deal in his break up from Jean.

"The Professor told me I would find you here." He stole a glance to Jubilee before he continued. "He received a fax from Dr. MacTaggert. I think it's the results of your blood work, maybe she found an answer to why you can now touch people."

"Oh, okay," she swallowed, nervously and dumped the rest of her clothes back in the basket. She gazed at Scott. His faced was concealed in a hooded expression that made her want to hold him. She reeled back in shock.

Hold him?

No. That couldn't be right. Scott was her teacher, a friend. He was heartbroken after the woman who claimed to love him till the end of time, had tossed his heart into a blender. Quietly, she tailed Scott down the hall to the elevator. It was awkward, due to the fact they hadn't spoken to one another since they'd got back to the mansion. Rogue understood. He needed space, time to reacquire his feelings, and not be overrun with a false sympathy she claimed to have.

The truth was she hated Jean for how badly she'd hurt him. Scott was the sweetest guy she'd ever known, a bit uptight, but nice nonetheless. "So," she cleared her throat, twisting a white strand of hair about her finger. "What do…you, uh, make of the results?"

"Nothing bad I hope," Scott replied stiffly.

"Me too," Rogue exhaled.

"Rogue."

She rotated herself slowly at his softly spoken voice, lifting her head to see him peering down at her. By then he'd removed his visors and was staring at her with large, magnificent, blue eyes. "I see," she let out a small laugh. "You're still wearing your shades."

"And you, you're opera gloves," he said skimming his fingers along the silk fabric.

She shuddered inwardly, lowering her head, confused by the sensation that was tickling her stomach. "I can't seem to rid myself of them," she said clasping her hands together.

"Me neither," Scott exhaled. "I can't sleep at night unless I was wearing them. Last night they slipped off my face when I rolled over and I damn near had a heart attack."

Rogue giggled. "I'm glad you're sleeping at all."

Scott frowned, scratching the side of his face. "Yeah…me too."

She reached to cup his face. "How are you holding up?"

"You want the truth?" he asked rather dryly.

"Yeah," she answered.

He looked away, biting his lip to fight the pain rising in his throat. "I'm dying here Rogue."

Distraught, she went to him, flinging her arms about his shoulders; she pulled him into a hug. She caught her breath when she felt Scott wrap his arms about her waist and draw her close. Their bodies were pinned so close to each other Rogue was afraid to breathe. She could feel Scott's warm breath on the nape of her neck and goose bumps pimpled her skin.

At the sound of the elevator chime, they drew apart, but not fast enough for Jean not to catch them in close proximity. Jean's eyes flashed darkly by the way Rogue's skin looked hot and bothered. Mouth twisting, she glared at Scott. He barely looked at her.

"What's all this…Scott…" she gasped in surprise. "You're eyes."

His face became like granite as his eyes turned cold. He'd forgotten to put on his shades once he was in public. "One of the many pleasures we could have shared if you'd remain faithful."

"You mean you could see all this time," she fought back.

"No," he scoffed. "Not all the time, but it is a fighting metaphor. I was once blind now I can see. Now if you will excuse us," he took Rogue's hand and dragged her out the elevator. He hoped she would forgive his behavior, but he wasn't going to stand there and allow Jean to degrade their friendship.

* * *

 

"Ororo?"

After several knocks at the door, Hank had no choice but to enter into the weather goddess bedchamber. He was troubled because Ororo hardly said a word to him since the night they returned from a conference in Washington D.C. That was the week the Professor suffered a terrible cold, and was unable to witness the summit in the Capital Building, regarding the Mutant Registration Act once again. He'd sent Storm as his proxy and with it the hope humanity wasn't far from reasoning and understanding as his old friend believed.

He shifted a tray loaded with food and glanced around. He found her curled in a fetal position on the bed, her white hair a startling contrast to the mauve pillowcases. He took a step, unsure she was awake, till she shifted her head, and looked straight at him.

"Hank? What are you…"

He presented the tray of food and smiled. "I thought you might be hungry," he said. "I haven't seen you downstairs these last days, I thought I bring you something."

"Thank you," she lowered eyes, sitting up in the bed. "But I'm not really hungry."

"But you should eat," he said and placed it before her. "You can't battle depression on an empty stomach."

Ororo keened her eyes on him. "I'm not depressed. I'm angry."

"I understand," Hank said, picking up the tray and setting it on her desk on the far side of the room. He then pulled out a chair and sank his heavy frame into it.

"You couldn't possibly," she snapped, eyes washed with tears.

Hank exhaled, shaking his head. "Ororo," he stated. "I love you, you always known that. So I fully grasp what it means to love and not have that love reciprocated. And after that night I dreamed that we might've…"

Ororo held up her hand, unwilling to hear to more. "We swore we wouldn't speak of that night Hank, we both agreed that it was a mistake."

"A mistake which sent you sailing back into Logan's arms."

"He is…was…my boyfriend at the time," she cried. "I was sleeping him."

"And how did he show his loyalty and affection," Hank said testily.

"Stop it," Ororo whimpered.

"He slithered into Jean's bed sheets and then…"

"Stop it!" Ororo's scream sounded like a wailing wind.

Hank stifled his tongue. Rising, he turned his back on the feral temptress, who had the power to conform lightening in the palm of her hand. For a brief period, an ill-mannered wind swept into the bedroom. Going over to the window, Hank closed it and faced Ororo. Her crumpled face pierced the innermost part of himself. Defeated, he walked steadily to her side, and sank down on the mattress.

"Ororo…I'm…so…sorry…I…"

He was silenced by her lips crushing his mouth in a kiss. Stunned, he grabbed her at the shoulders and yanked her back. "Ororo…what are you…"

"Hold me Hank," she cried, pressing her head into his chest. "Please…just hold me."

His mind was a blur.

He knew better to leave, but he couldn't bear the idea of leaving her in such condition. So, he slid back against the comforter, shifted as Ororo moved next to him, and laid his head on the pillow. Ororo shivered, pressing her face in the side of his chest. Hank could feel warm tears damping his shirt. He tried to shift his position so they would lie face to face, but she wouldn't budge.

"Ororo? What is it? Ororo, what is the matter?"

"Just hold me," she cried anxiously, "just hold me."

Unwillingly using his strength, he turned her, staring demanding. "Ororo. I can sense that something is wrong. Despite what's happened between us, we're still friends, you can trust me to be there for you. What is it?"

"I don't want to discuss it," she exhaled, getting out the bed pacing.

"Ororo," he growled. "What is the matter with you? We've always been able to talk."

"Leave me alone Hank," she cried.

"No," he shot up in the bed. "Not until I find out what ails you. You've been rude, distant, and above all moody. I can understand that you are hurt, but damn it, what is it? Maybe the Professor and I can help."

Ororo raked her hand through her hair, pacing frantically. "I don't need you're help. I don't need anyone's help. I can take care of my baby all by myself."

Hank reeled back, absolutely mortified. "Baby? What baby?" Ororo cupped a hand over her mouth, realizing she'd made a mistake. Terrified, her pace quickened. Hank pushed to his feet slowly, crossing the floor to Ororo. Her back was to him; she refused to look at him, too ashamed. "Ororo," he whispered forcing her around. "Are you pregnant?"

"Yes," she cried, dissolving into a wealth of tears, sinking to the floor. "Yes, oh god!"

Hank hugged her close, strumming his hand through her hair. "Hush now, it's okay. It'll be alright. I'm here."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief

**US/Canadian Border: Present Time**

… _three days earlier…_

From one stop to the next, the atmosphere was the same; an endless string of seedy bars, cage fights, women, and booze. There in Merv's Tavern, Logan sat twenty-five miles away from the Canadian border, toasting the sad misfortune that was his existence. A fitting outcome to a crappy life. A bottle of Jack Daniels, paid in full, he was on his way to drinking himself into complete oblivion. Except, there was critical error in his hopes to awaken in a mad, drunken stupor.

His damn healing factor.

It made it impossible to gain a good buzz.

A muscled hand gripping the head, he tipped the bottle to his lips, drinking in sheer desperation. Drowning sorrows and ails that had eaten at him for the last two weeks on the road. He didn't push himself to wonder what was happening back at the mansion. For certain, after the incident in the kid's room, he wouldn't be permitted on the Professor's sacred grounds. He let out a rude snort. He didn't care. All of that he left behind him in the wind dust that tailed Cyke's bike.

Logan's mouth curled into a cruel smile.

Correction. His bike.

When the bliss of disorientation did not grace him, he guzzled down the remaining drops, before tossing a tip on the bar top, jumping off the stool, and heading out the bar. He caught the eyes a few wayward stragglers and glared as he pressed in hard steps to the exit. The moon was full in the black sky. Trees stood silent and still; leaves barely quivering on the branches. Standing just outside the door, Logan paused for a moment, his senses keening to some ghostly apparition that held the world in a deathly hush.

He sniffed.

Nothing.

Grumbling, he headed to his motorcycle, fishing out keys shoved deep in his tattered, brown leather jacket. A sudden upstart of wind halted his footsteps. His nostrils flared and his ears twitched as he heard the faint sound of movement. Steel claws pierced through his skin, fueling a wrath that was always imminent every time the cursed blades came forth. Snarling, he spun around in brute force, slashing the air, severing in half a coke bottle in the hand of a scraggly kid.

"Fuckin' christ," the boy screamed in fright, eyes bulging as he gawked at Logan and his metal claws. "Jesus…mutant…a fuckin' mutant!"

Logan watched the kid scurry down the dimly lit streets. "Punk," he snarled, spiting on the ground. Straddling his motorcycle, he powered down the dark strip of road, a bright beam from the head light cutting into the night.

Canada was so close he could taste the subtle change in the climate. The crisp cold air that swept in from the Artic and the vibrant smell of pine. He would cut into Ontario and push on up to British Columbia. Hell, he might even ride all the way up to Alaska. Sure, he be right back in the States but the terrain, open country, it was a lot different than the crowded populace of New York. He kicked the bike to high gear, the border was dead ahead, just five more miles.

_Logan._

"Shit," he growled swerving off the road. He flipped off the bike, crashing into the oncoming foliage, rolling several times, before slamming in a great Oak tree. He laid motionless for several minutes.

_Logan?_

"Hmm," he moaned, slowly regaining consciousness, his wounds healing.

_Logan, are you alright?_

Pushing onto his back, Logan coughed, spitting out leaves and dirt, then forced himself to sit up. "Charles?" He spoke into the blackness, uncertain he heard his voice.

_Logan, are you hurt?_

"When am I ever hurt old man," he muttered, rising to his feet.

_Yes. Quite._

"What do you want? Were you trying to fuckin' kill me?"

_I doubt that is possible and I didn't mean to throw you off guard._

"Swell," Logan cried, marching back to his fallen bike. He heaved the motorcycle to a stand and inspected it for damages. "What the hell do you want anyway? I figured you'd be glad that I'm gone after all that's happened."

_I have not yet excused your behavior Logan, but I'm willing to look past it._

"Ain't I the lucky one."

_Logan, I need you to return to the mansion._

Wolverine's expression turned black as his eyebrows bunched together. "I ain't coming back Charles," he got on the bike and tried to start it up. "I don't belong there anyway. I know everyone there don't want me including Rogue."

_It's not a matter of what you want Logan, it's about what someone needs._

"What the hell are you talking about?" he wiped his mouth glaring into the darkness.

_It's Storm, she's pregnant, and you're the father._

* * *

 

**Westchester, New York: Present Time**

… _same afternoon…_

"Are you leaving?"

Hank turned slowly, adjusting his shirt, smiling faintly at Ororo as she looked up at him, the covers still gallantly spread over her form. He was alarmed when he peered sleepily at the clock on her nightstand, and saw they'd been asleep for two hours. "Yes," he said going to sit down on the bed. "I have some things to take care of downstairs, not to mention, some things you will need."

Ororo looked away almost forgetting Hank had discovered she was pregnant. "You don't have to fuss yourself over me Hank," she said bunching the quilt in her hand.

He caressed her cheek with a large blue finger. "But I want to," and took a deep breath. "And Logan isn't here to fulfill…his…obligations." He saw her frown and tightened his lip. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be," she shook her head, "besides, after that night in Washington, after the way I treated you…"

"I thought you didn't want to discuss it," he implied.

"I know," she sighed. "I know, but I can't help feeling I've…I've…ruined our friendship."

Hank cupped her face, stroking her hair. "No," he hushed, wiping her tears with his large thumb. "I'm at fault…I pressed you…resented the fact you chose Logan over me. I shouldn't have expected you to leave him after…"

"But I'm the one who ended up making the foolish choice," she sniffed.

"No," Hank said gruffly. "He's the fool, but now he's gone and…"

"He may come back," Ororo croaked.

Hank went rigid. "What?"

"It's true," she got out of the bed, a hand resting protectively on her flat stomach. A faint smile delighting in the knowledge that a child was growing there. "The Professor's been in contact with him, I know it. I know he's going to tell him about the baby."

"Do you even think he'd return if he did?"

She shook her head. "I don't know anything anymore when it comes to Logan." She spun around, eyes glimmering angrily. "But I don't want him back here. I can't think of looking at him after what he's done." Ororo clasped a hand over her mouth. "Oh god, what am I saying." She sounded like a hypocrite, especially since she'd slept with Hank while they were in Washington.

Hank rose and went to her, drawing her close. "We did absolutely nothing wrong."

"How can you say that," she said in a low whisper, blinking out tears.

"I can say it because I love you Ororo," his voice low and husky, surrendering to his feelings, "and I'm not ashamed of what transpired between us."

"If Logan ever found out…"

"Oh to hell with Logan! Tell Xavier you have no wish to see him again, I'm sure he'd respect you're feelings," he said wishfully. Deep down he had no desire to see the nomad with claws make some sort of triumphant return to the mansion. He wanted a chance to prove himself and his love for Ororo, and he realized he couldn't do it with that cretin around.

"I've already tried that," she sighed, resting her head on his chest, "but you know Charles. Once he's set his mind to something there's no changing it."

* * *

 

"You wanted to see us Professor?"

"Rogue, actually," the Professor answered, lowering a book entitled  _The Once and Future King_. "But you're welcomed to stay Scott, if that is what Rogue wants."

Rogue nodded.

Scott stepped aside, allowing her to enter the office, then closed the door and followed her to two leather chairs in front of a large desk. She sat down and clasped her gloved hands together, looking anxiously at the Professor. The old man gave them both a hearty smile.

"I'm pleased to see you're looking well Scott," he said.

"Thanks," Scott replied, scratching the back of his hair.

"As you already know," he started removing several sheets of paper from the fax machine. "Dr. MacTaggert has completed the analysis on your DNA."

"Yes," Rogue said softly, gripping her hands. "She took some of my blood when she saw what I did to Scott." She glanced over and smiled at him. "I healed him…but I don't recall absorbing anyone with powers of that influence, except…Logan, but his healing ability mended his body alone. He doesn't regenerate others. What could it mean?"

"It means you've developed a secondary mutation, an extremely rare incident where a mutant's power becomes greater, or in you're case Rogue changes," he shuffled the papers and laid them flat on his desk.

Rogue gasped. "A…a secondary….mutation?"

"Yes. Only a few cases have been recorded, however, Dr. McTaggert has never witnessed an event in person. She's extremely anxious to study this case in further detail and has sent a message to Dr. McCoy."

"So…I'm…to become…a Guinea Pig."

"Don't look at it that way Rogue," Xavier coaxed. "We want to discover the root of this phenomena."

"But what about my skin?" she asked. "Are my powers gone?"

"They've become dormant," the Professor replied. "A mutant never truly loses the power they're born with."

"But how was she able to heal me?" Scott questioned.

The Professor put a finger to his lips as he thought. "Perhaps Rogue is able to do more with Logan's powers, but with more study we'll find out the answer."

"Well that was a complete waste of time," Rogue huffed as she stormed away from the Professor's office.

"Come on Rogue," Scott said matching her stride. "At least we know it's nothing serious."

She swung around livid. "I'm changing again," she cried. "It's bad enough I had to deal with my damn skin, but this…I don't know if I can handle it."

Scott caught her at the upper length of her arms right as she tried to flee. "You'll handle it," he said pointedly, "you know why, 'cause I'm going be right there for you as you were for me."

"Sweet," she smirked. "But we're not talking about a bunch of broken bones and bruises, this goes deep to very marrow of me Scott. What if this is not a secondary mutation? What if this something worse?"

"Don't talk like that? Whatever it is we'll handle it together?"

"Handle what?"

Scott and Rogue froze to low rumble of Logan's prominent voice echoing the foyer. Turning, they spied him a few feet away, swaggering through the door. "What the hell are you doing here?" Rogue attacked before Scott could utter a word.

"So much for a 'welcome home' and a hug," Logan bit out.

"You wish," she seethed, venom in her tone. "Why are you here anyway?"

"The Professor hit me with some shocking news," he said.

"What news?" Scott demanded.

"None of your fuckin' business," he glowered.

"Well, I hope it means you won't be staying long," Rogue snapped.

Logan strolled into a beam of light. "Actually," a grin growing on his face. "I plan on being around for a very long time."

"Great, that's all we need, after everything," Rogue exclaimed throwing her hands in the air and storming towards the elevator.

Logan watched in open curiosity as she departed then nailed his eyes on Scott. The younger male stood rooted in foyer, barely intimidated, which intrigue him. "Well aren't you going to welcome me home." Scott said nothing, Shrugging, Logan tossed him the keys. "Your bike needs gas and repairs."

Scott's face broke in anger and he flung the keys back. "So…take care of it!" He barked and marched to the elevator.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief

**Westchester, New York: Present Time**

… _same afternoon…_

Logan wasn't peeved by Rogue's hot temper and rash words. He wasn't there to gain forgiveness or the favor of everyone residing in the mansion. His business was with Ororo; the woman was carrying his child. At first, he thought the Professor was playing a practical joke. But after second guessing himself, he rationalized the old man wouldn't pull a stunt such as this.

The realization knocked the wind out him.

Him…a father?

Holy shit!

Never had he ridden as fast as he did that night. Now that he was home, he pondered his next move. Advancing into the household, his senses familiarizing itself with the rich scent of wood and polish, he mounted the stairs to Ororo's room, deliberating, finding the words to characterize his feelings.

A fight was brewing.

He knew this for certain and mentally prepared for the battle. Ororo was, most of the time, the easiest person to get along with. Nevertheless, he'd injured her, therefore, he was venturing into unknown territory. A woman scorned.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he made his way to the weather goddess' bedroom. From a short distance he heard murmured voices emanating out her room and listened closely. His countenance darkened. Ororo was in her room, but she was not alone.

Logan stood beside her door and listened. "It's going to be alright Storm," Hank rumbled, his voice warm, inviting. "I'm here…anything you need…it's yours."

"Thank you Hank," replied Ororo, whimpering.

"And if Logan doesn't return, I'll be here for you, and the baby."

"Like hell you are," Logan bellowed, charging into the room, drawing stunned cries from both parties inside.

"Logan!"

Hank glared. "What are you doing here?"

"Passing through," Logan grunted, "good thing I arrived just time." He threw his back pack on the floor and swaggered towards the large, furry blue mutant. He saw how Hank ushered Ororo behind him and stood rooted like a lion, ready to defend its mate. He snarled. "You mind leaving bub so I can talk to the mother of my child."

Ororo paled. "So, the Professor  _did_ tell you."

He turned his eyes to her, sweeping over her frame, landing on her stomach. "Yeah, but when were you?"

She looked away, despondent. "She doesn't have to explain herself," Hank intervened, "least of all to you."

Logan peeled his eyes back to Hank, tipping his head slightly. "I wasn't talking to you buddy. Hey, why don't you get the hell outta here so that Stormy and I can have a real conservation."

"And what makes you think Ororo would want to spend an ounce of her time talking to you," Hank snapped.

" 'Cause she's carrying my kid, something that ain't got nothing to do with you."

Hank glowered at him, his blue eyes glinted menacingly. "I know you betrayed her then abandoned her, and if you think I'm going to let you hurt her again…"

"Who the hell do you think you are you pompous, son of a…"

"That's enough," hollered Storm. "Hank, could you excuse us, please."

There was a look of outrage on his face, as if she had utterly betrayed him. He shifted and darkened, catching Logan's smug grin. "As you wish," he muttered and stormed out before he lost complete control of senses.

Logan walked after him and shut the door. He leaned against it, exhaling. "Ororo," he said, turning, and felt a hard slap across his face. He gawked at her in sheer alarm.

"Damn you Logan," she hissed. "Why are you here?"

"You're pregnant."

"So you're fulfilling your obligation to me is that it."

"No," he cried. "And…yes…Jesus…Ororo…" he rubbed his chin, his skin still burning. "What was that for?"

She gasped. "You have the nerve to stand there ask me such a question." She blinked away tears welling in her eyes. "Get out."

"Ororo," he pushed away from the door, closing the space between their bodies. He fingered the silken white strands of her hair, but she retreated to the far side of the room. He let out a haggard breath. "I fucked up okay. Is that what you want to hear. I fucked up and I'm not asking you to forgive me."

"You right I'm not going to forgive you," she glared at him. "I might have…if the other woman…wasn't Jean. Damn you Logan, she was my best friend, but it doesn't surprise me, men were always drawn to her. She was the one they always wanted." She looked at him critically. "The one you always wanted…I was just to there to help you pass the time."

"That's not true," he said.

She swirled around, her hair flying in the air. "Isn't it! Be honest Logan, the moment you laid eyes on her you were hooked. I was just a means to end, while you waited till their relationship was on the rocks."

"That's not true," he bellowed, furious by her accusations, furious she right. Either way, he had to make her understand he was back, and he was here for and their baby. "Ororo…I never meant to…"

"What? What!" She roared. "Hurt me! Too late."

Logan spread out his arms, defenseless. "So…so…what do you want me to do?"

Ororo narrowed her eyes. "What do I want you to do?"

"Yes! Tell me! What do you want me to do?"

"You can go to hell for all I care," she replied without a hint of kindness. She powered towards her bedroom door, threw it open, tossing his sack out into the hallway. "And on you're way there, you can get out of my room, because we won't be shacking up to play mommy and daddy….now…get out!" As he stood there, looking utterly determined to voice his reasons to her heartache, Ororo glanced away enraged.

"Fine," she hissed. "Stay here, I'll just ask the Professor for another room."

"Ororo…Storm…wait let's talk about this." Logan called after her as he watched her flee from the room.

* * *

 

"Knock it off will you," Bobby protested, averting his face from Kitty's relentless kisses. Secluded in his room, she was straddled on his hips, feverishly stroking his chest with her slender hands. "I'm not in in the mood."

"What're you talking about?" she giggled, nipping on his bottom lip. "You said Rogue knows about us. We don't have to hide anymore." Her hands moved south to fiddle with his belt buckle. Loosening his pant's button, she pulled his zipper down to take him in her hand.

"I said cut it out," he said through gritted teeth, shoving her roughly off him. She toppled to floor in a great heap. Exhaling, Bobby scrambled out of bed, zipped up his pants and did his belt.

"Shit…god…like, Bobby…what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," he said, letting out a deep breath. I'm just tired today."

"Ha," she cried, dragging herself off the floor. "That's a first." Kitty eyed him closely, suspicious as to why he didn't want to have sex. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Rogue's return from Hawaii."

"No," he retorted. "I…I had a long day in the danger room."

"Really."

"Yeah." He sauntered to her, a smile curling the edge of his lips, stroking her arm in effort to take full hold of her. She turned aside, bitter, shying away from his grasp, before eventually melting into his awaiting arms.

"I love you Bobby," she whispered, rubbing her face in his chest.

"Yeah." After a moment, they drew apart. Cupping her face, Bobby kissed her pout, pink lips. "Let's get something to eat."

They left the room, stepping lightly down the hall. Kitty laced her fingers through Bobby "s hand and swung her arm in delight. Finally, after a year of secret meetings, and hiding places, they were going to announce their relationship in front of the whole school, in front of Rogue. She now knew about them and that was all that mattered. Despite what this would make her look like, she'd never been more happy.

They journeyed to the cafeteria and suddenly her heart beat kicked up a notch at the sound of squawking kids behind the large double doors. As they entered, a hush fell on the crowd of mutants partaking lunch in the spacious room. It had a grand view of the mansion grounds and in a distance the swimming pool and tennis court. Kitty spied the room, to her relief, Rogue was not present.

She and Bobby headed towards the buffet table and portioned out their food. Hugging her tray, she swiveled in her tennis shoes, looking around. She smiled at Jubilee who sat with the others at their usual table. "John, Peter," she sat down. "Jubes."

"Hey," murmured Peter and John.

Bobby set his tray down and eased into a chair. "How's it hanging fellows?"

"Down and around my ankles," John jeered, a sly grin on his face.

Jubilee caught her breath, while Peter laughed, squirting milk out of his nose. "You're disgusting," Jubilee exclaimed.

"He asked."

"So, Logan's back." Bobby bit into his hamburger.

"That's what I heard," said Peter.

"Why is here anyway?" Jubilee said vexed.

Kitty shrugged and sipped her soda. "Maybe he and Ms. Grey are going to ride off into the sunset this time."

"Yeah," Jubilee mumbled. "You would know something about stealing somebody's man."

Kitty froze. Her brown eyes widening, filling the whole of her face. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"Do I have to spell it for you?" Jubilee said in a low menacing voice.

"First of all," Kitty swallowed. "Rogue knows, okay, so Bobby and I ain't got nothing to hide."

"Well, la-dee-da, I'm so happy for the both of you," Jubilee cried. "I've lost my appetite." She shoved the chair back, rose, and collected her tray. She walked briskly to the trash, dumped the scraps, and exited.

"I guess that's my cue," Peter sighed, rising from the table. He took one last bite of his club sandwich before jogging off to soothe his riled girlfriend.

* * *

 

"Why is he here?"

"Should it matter," Scott answered.

"To you," Rogue cried. "What if Logan tries to hurt you again?"

Scott grinned. "I admit he caught me off guard the first time, but I won't be taken down so easily again."

"Yeah, and I'll remember to lock my bedroom door." Rogue blushed madly, lifting her head slowly. "I mean…"

Scott placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "It's okay." His smile reached his eyes, but she couldn't see the twinkle for his shades were blocking the lovely vision of his piercing blues. He lowered his head close to her face. "I wouldn't mind sleeping next to you again."

Rogue bit her lip. He was so close, she thought he might kiss her. It was wrong. He was her teacher. If it weren't for the chime of the elevator, she would have initiated the first move, and plant a kiss on his sweet mouth. They were so sensuous, red, and full. She'd never seen such lips on a man before. She turned away, ashamed, excited, and completely devoid of any rational thought.

As they walked out the elevator, she noticed how Scott's hand had not left her shoulder. She curbed the urge to laugh and kept her eyes pinned straight on the washroom. A strange odor started to pollute the hall. Rogue sniffed and frowned. It was pungent, strong. Bleach? She didn't remember using any, most her clothes were dark, long sleeved clothing designed for winter and fall. Nothing bright or white. She hated all that cutesy stuff.

"What the hell?" She hustled to the washroom and threw open the door. She gasped. Her clothes were strewn here and there on the floor, bathing in a pool of bleach. The scent was so strong, she had to back away from the room. "My clothes."

"Jesus."

"Jean!" Rogue cried in outrage and turned sharply.

"Rogue…wait!" Scott grabbed her by the arm and hauled her back to him. "You don't have to…"

"That bitch bleached my clothes," she said tears brimming in her eyes. "She's not going to get away with this."

"You'll only be sinking down to her level."

"I don't care."

"It's what she wants," he stated. "She's itching for a fight and we're not giving it to her."

"But my clothes," she whined.

"I'll buy you a new wardrobe." Scott grinned.

Rogue shook her head. "Don't joke."

Reaching into his pocket, Scott flashed a wallet filled with numerous credit cards. "I wasn't."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief

**Present Time: Westchester, New York**

… _later in the afternoon…_

A hand flew through the air, colliding with Bobby's cheek in a loud smack. The harsh blow drew a stunted cry from his lips. He covered his face and turned to face a wily girl with smoldering emerald eyes and luminous green hair. "Just where the fuck were you last night," Polaris rasped. "I waited up till midnight then I went to bed alone. And now I know why?"

Alarmed, Bobby gripped her arm, dragging her down the hallway, and into the privacy of the library. He closed the door and swung around. "It's not what you think," he grunted, massaging his cheek.

"Is it." Polaris glared at him. She was so angry, she was literally shaking in her clogs. "I watched you and Kitty parade into the lunch room like a blushing bride and groom. What's up with that? I thought you were going to break it off with the mousy little scamp."

"It's not that simple." Bobby replied.

Polaris looked at him, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Oh," she gritted through her teeth. "She's in love and you don't want to break her heart."

"Something like that."

"And what about me Bobby," she demanded. "What about my heart?"

He went to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Polaris…I do care about you…I want to be with you."

She squirmed out his hold, retreating to a nearby couch. "Don't mind fuck me Bobby! I'm not a ditz like Kitty. You got three days to set her straight or I'll do it myself." She surged to the door, but Bobby caught her by the wrist, pulling her to him.

"You won't say anything to her understand!" His blood was hot in rage. "I will tell her when the time is right."

Polaris blinked, her mouth curling into a vicious smile. "Scared."

"Hell no." Bobby grunted and released his hold on her. He forced himself to relax. He didn't want to rile her infamous temper, and he certainly didn't want Kitty to find out about him and Polaris. He had no desire to let things get more crazy than they already were. It was bad enough Rogue managed to sniff him and Kitty out. It surprised him she didn't know about Lorna.

"You better be," she snapped. " 'Cause if you're still together by Thursday, she and the whole school will know what a slut you really are."

Yanking the door open, she stormed out the library.

"Fuck!" Bobby cried, realizing the predicament he was in. He should have known better than to get involved with Lorna. But she captivated him with those dazzling eyes and curvaceous body. What guy could resist, honestly. He paced the room, a thousand thoughts buzzing in his head. It was then he noticed Kitty standing in the doorway and paused. She had an expression on her face that nearly made his heart jump out his chest.

"Was that Lorna?" She asked.

He cleared his throat, rubbing his cheek, hoping the red imprint of a hand had faded. "Yeah, she came in here to get a book…so…" Kitty's face brightened. She pranced into the room, almost leaping into his arms. She kissed him boldly then stared into his eyes. "What was that for?"

"I'm so in love with you that's what," she giggled.

He chuckled and pulled her close. "Yeah."

"Yeah, what?" she said, stroking his back, pressing her fingers into his muscles.

"Ugh…" Bobby loosened his grip, looking down at her. Her brown eyes peered up at him innocently; expectation glowing in the chocolate depths.

"Bobby?" Kitty gradually unwound herself from his arms. "You do love me right?"

"How could you doubt that I don't."

"I haven't heard you say it."

He raked his hand through his hair, groaning. "You know I do."

Kitty swallowed the lump in her throat. "Then say it. Say that you love me."

"Jesus Christ, Kitty. What does it matter?"

Tears pricked the edge of her eyes. Her face grew hot. "It matters to me! What was I to you all this time? A cheap thrill?"

"No," he yelled. "Kitty, shit, I care about you."

"That's not what I asked," she shook her head, her face pinched white. "Do you love me?"

"Yes! Damn…you happy now."

Her face broke as a wealth of tears streamed down her face. "Go to hell." She turned and fled the room.

"Kitty don't leave." His eyes lolled to the back of his head at the sound of the door slamming. "Fuck!"

* * *

 

… _two days later…_

"What about this one?" Jubilee suggested holding out a bright pink tank top. "It'll look cute with the denim skirt." Rogue lowered her book, took a good look, and shook her head. Jubilee growled and tossed the top onto her bed with the half dozen outfits her friend had rejected. "Mr. Summers is going to be here any minute to take you shopping and your sitting there reading in your bathroom."

Rogue lowered her book. "I would have clothes if it weren't for a certain somebody," she commented.

Jubilee made a face. "If you were like not going to hit her," she said tersely, searching her closet once more. "You could have summoned me to do the job."

"I bet you would." Rogue giggled. "But Sc-Mr. Summers is right. I'll only be sinking to her level." She ran her fingers through her hair, batting her eyes. "I'm more sophisticated than that."

Jubilee turned around and looked at her roommate, a mischievous smile growing on her lips. "What don't you just call him Scott? Save us both the trouble."

Rogue blinked. "I don't know what you mean."

"Stop it Rogue. I know you dig the guy. End your suffering and mine and call the guy by his first name." Closing her book, Rogue set it aside, astounded by Jubilee's accusations. Sure, she liked Scott, but it could never amount to anything. He was her teacher and way older than she was. He aged her by ten years, and the last time she checked. It was illegal in all fifty states. "Yeah I know he's like way older, totally uptight, but he's a major hottie. Not to mention you'll be eighteen in four months. I don't foresee a problem."

"First of all," Rogue corrected. "I'll be turning seventeen thank you very much. Secondly, there's nothing going on between me and Mr.-" She saw the look in Jubilee's eyes and sighed in defeat. "Fine…Scott. We're not a couple, we're friends, and he's still getting over Jean."

Jubilee whirled around in pure displeasure. "Okay. As far as the Wicked Bitch of the West is concerned, I think he's been over her and I can't be more thrilled. The woman is so high maintenance, well, so is Mr. Summers but in a cool way you know."

"It's only been two weeks. He can't be over her."

"Why?" The spunky Asian tossed her a devious grin. "Afraid he might set his sights on you." She saw the way Rogue paled and frowned. "You are. Rogue." She walked over to her bed and sat down. "What are you afraid of?"

Rogue lowered head and shook it. "Hope." She chocked back the swell in her throat, the familiar sting in her eyes before the break of tears. "I…ugh, I so want to love and be loved Jubes. I thought Bobby would give that to me completely." She turned her eyes to ceiling, exhaling. "I was so wrong about that."

"Don't waste one tear on that fool. He didn't know what he had." Jubilee gritted then arched a brow. "Besides, rumor has it that it ain't looking so good in la-la land."

Frowning, Rogue tipped her head. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not certain," Jubilee tapped her chin. "But word around is that Kitty isn't speaking to the loser."

Rogue gave out a hapless laugh. "I guess we're both in the same boat."

Jubilee narrowed her eyes. "You not feeling sorry for her are you? Remember she stole Bobby from you."

"I'm tired of being angry with everyone Jubes," said Rogue crawling out the bed. "I've got my own problems. I don't have time to fret about Kitty or Jean or Logan."

"You had to bring him up." Jubilee said, her mouth tight.

"What's you're deal against him anyhow. He hasn't done shit to you."

"No," she retorted. "But he's done thing to Ms. Munroe, a sweet lady, and to you. Come on, you were in love with him once."

"That was a child's fantasy."

Jubilee stood up. "But tell me it didn't hurt just a bit when you found out about him and that slut. Tell me."

"If I do can we drop the subject and return to what I'm going to where. I can't go shopping naked you know."

"Wear the one good jeans you have and hoodie."

"They're filthy," Rogue cried. "I've worn them for two days now, and I'm not wearing sweats to the mall. Not in this heat."

"Well you don't seem to like my sense in fashion," the Asian snapped. "What am I suppose to do."

"Fine." Rogue gritted her teeth and ripped off the robe allowing it to fall to the floor. She tugged on a pair of Jube's jeans and wrenched the pink tank top down over her head. "Satisfied."

Jubilee grinned. "You look hot chica. Where have you been hiding that body?"

"Under a mountain of clothes. " She looked in the mirror. "I'm wearing my sneakers."

"All right with me." Bouncing off the bed, Jubilee skipped over and took her hand. "Let's do you're hair. You always have it in that god awful pony tail. And we can add a bit of color to your cheeks and zest to those dry lips. Make them moist and sweet for Scott."

Rogue shoved her lightly, laughing madly. "Don't go there!"

"Not me," Jubilee's eyes sparkled. "But I hope he will." She giggled and picked up her brush, stroking it through her friend's brown hair. A knock came at the door. "Oohh…it's him!"

"Ha ha." Playfully hitting Jubilee, she rose and answered the third knock. Her breath caught as she stared up to Scott. He was dressed as he was always, a sensible shirt and pants. She felt irregular in Jubilee's clothes. Exposed in the tight shirt that barely seemed to cover anything.

"You look nice," he smiled.

She blushed. "Thanks."

"Ready?"

She nodded. "Yeah." She gave Jubilee a final glance and her mouth dropped at her lewd gestures. She quickly shut the door before Scott could see her. "I hope you're ready for this," she said to him as they bounded down the stairs.

"I hope the Professor can handle the bill."

Rogue let out a riotous laugh.

* * *

 

**Present Time: New York City, The Mall**

If Scott had know the torment he was going to face, he would have strung Jubilee or Kitty along for moral support. Rogue was impossible. Store to store she complained about everything. From prices to the clothes even down to a pair of socks; he couldn't understand her obsession in finding dark long sleeved items. He was one step close to suffering a mental break down. There was no quarrel on shoes to his relief. At least they agreed on one thing. The rest was pure pandemonium. Disgruntled, he dragged her into Macy's, and grew horrified by the sheer size. The entire department store was for women alone.

Where would they even begin?

"Scott's that's not brown," Rogue clarified. "That's taupe."

"What's the difference?" He gripped the pants.

"Taupe is brownish grey," a woman said from behind, an employee of the store. "Brown is brown."

He glared at the woman. "Thank you."

"Rogue we've been at the mall for hours and we've got a long drive back to house. Buy something or I'll kill you."

"Alright," she sucked her teeth. Snatching, the pants out his hands, she headed for the ladies dressing room. She stopped to pick picked up some other items on her way and cast him a dark look.

"Jesus Christ," he groaned.

He headed out the store to catch a breather. Settling on the water fountain, he sat legs apart, his hand in his hair. Time ticked slowly by.

"Satisfied," Rogue said a half hour later.

He lifted his eyes. She was holding several bags in her possession. "Rogue…"

"Let's go eat," she said flatly. "I'm starved."

They stopped by the food court to have Chinese. Eating was done in dead silence. Scott looked at her one time. She hadn't touched her meal. Sighing, he lowered his fork. "I'm sorry."

"You should be," she fired back.

"I'm not used to this okay. Shopping isn't my thing."

She stared at him. "Then why did you volunteer."

"I don't know." He shrugged stirred his fruit juice. "Thought we could use the time to get to know each other."

"But we do know each other."

"Yeah," he turned to look around then lowered his voice. "As your teacher and you're my student. I know the simple basics about you."

"What could you possibly want to know?"

"I don't know," he said casually. "What's your favorite color."

"Emerald."

"Explains why like to wear green so much." He was reminded of the heavy hooded coat she wore when she first arrived at the school. She looked so lost and scared he thought she might flip at the sight of her own shadow.

"You must like blue," she smiled. "You wear it religiously."

"In actuality," he grinned. "I wouldn't really know. I've spent most of my adult life behind my shades I don't know what color is what." He took off the ruby glasses and pressed his thumb and forefinger to his eyes. "I'm still having trouble adjusting."

"Then keep them off," she reached over taking them out his hands. He glanced her way, gazing into her brown eyes. "Would you do the same?"

She lowered her eyes to her gloves and chuckled. "I don't remember putting them on."

"It's like instinct."

"Yeah."

Smiling, Scott to hold of one wrist, gently pulling the white fabric off then he set to work on the other hand. He thought she had lovely hands and he admired her clean oval nails. Natural, not the fake get up most girls and women fell for. "How does that feel Rogue?"

"M-Marie."

"What?"

"My name," she stuttered. "My name is Marie."

"I know," he smiled. " You write on the top of your papers. I just didn't want to offend you somehow."

She grinned.

Tension appeased. It was easier for the two of them to swallow their food. Rogue laughed and listened to Scott's corny jokes, taking everything in stride. After lunch he pocketed his shades but bought a pair of black sunglasses to shield his eyes. They were still sensitive to the bright light and color. He loaded Rogue's clothes into the back of his sports car. She promised the next time they went shopping, she wouldn't be so hard to handle. When they arrived at the mansion it was nearly nightfall. Scott drove into the garage and shut off the car where they sat in silence.

"I had a good time," he said.

"Before or after we ate lunch?" asked Rogue and they burst out laughing.

"After," he admitted.

"Well…"

He grinned. "Well."

An awkward pause soon shattered the friendly atmosphere. Rogue could feel his eyes bearing into her. She tried to look away but she was enraptured by his lips. She saw Scott lean sideways and held her breath. His scent filled her nostrils. She gripped her hands together.

His mouth was soft and inviting, a tender caress against her mouth, at first, then the kiss deepened. Rogue could hardly believe what was happening. Scott was kissing her and it was sweet, not hurried and desperate like Bobby's. He kissed her like a man on exploration, discovering secrets in the warm cavern of her mouth. She trembled as he pulled her close, wrapping his strong arms about her. Rogue gave herself willing, surrounding to secret desires she locked away for weeks. She clawed her fingers into his hair, relishing the softness of the strands. She moaned when she felt him withdraw and panted for breath.

"We better get inside," Scott said murmured, stroking her cheek.

"Okay," she whispered.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief

**Present Time: Westchester, New York**

… _the next morning…_

Rays of sunlight pooled through slightly parted curtains, allowing a trail of light to leak into a dark room, which incidentally fell on Rogue's face. She winced, diving underneath the covers, unwilling to accept the fact that the sun had risen already. After arriving home, she and Scott didn't go straight to bed, but sat by the pool, talking and eating leftover pizza. It was nice having a decent conversation with a guy without worrying whether or not he was trying to get into her shorts. Even though the kiss they shared enlightened her of Scott's intentions, he was, as always, a gentleman.

She was starting to drift, when Jubilee's alarm's clock buzzed. "Oh," she groaned, pulling the pillow over her head.

"Up and atom sleepy head." Rogue sulked and curled into a fetal position. She kicked at the feel of Jubilee smacking her backside and growled. "It's the first day of Summer School. I can't believe you're going to be in class with me."

"I wouldn't have if, oh, what's the use," she murmured. Flopping onto her back, she let out a breath in a puff, fluttering her platinum locks. She turned to see Jubilee standing beside her bed, a strange look on her face. "What?"

"You didn't tell me what went on with you and Mr. Summer's yesterday."

"That's only because we came back late," Rogue replied. "Besides, everybody was sleeping when we arrived at the mansion."

"I wasn't," she said arching her brows. "So, spill it girl…what happened?"

"Nothing!" She tossed in the bed, dragging the covers on top of her. "We…uh, shopped, ate, that's it."

"Did I, like, hear an awkward pause. Something happened I can smell it," she squealed excitedly. "Come on Rogue, you can trust me. You know I ain't gonna leave you alone unless you quench my thirst for juicy gossip."

Infuriated, Rogue bolted straight up, causing the quilt to fall to the floor. Jubilee was literally bouncing on her bed, pawing at her as she laughed loudly. "Nothing happened, now would you please, let it lie!" She shoved her aside, flung her legs over the side, stood, and stormed to the bathroom. "I gotta go pee."

"Fine," the Asian rebuffed, getting up out the bed. "I'll let it lie, for now." She went to her closet, threw open the doors, and picked out an outfit. "But you know I have ways of finding things out!" The door opened just wide enough for a brush to come sailing out to her. Jubilee dodged the flying object which cracked against cedar door of her closet and smirked. "You missed!"

"Bitch!"

"And don't take too long in there either," Jubilee ranted as the bathroom door slammed shut.

Sulking, Rogue stood in front of the mirror over the sink. She was so angry, she thought she would burst. How that girl vexed her so, but she was a good friend. She stood by her during all the pandemonium and whispers that nearly drove her into exile.

Taking brief interest in her reflection, she went to shower and turned the tap. Her thoughts were elsewhere and inside she was giddy, overwhelmed, confused. She didn't know how she was going to make it through the day. One of the three subjects she had to complete was Trigonometry, Scott's area of expertise. How could she sit there while he peeked her imagination, taunted her with his dashing smile, and sensuous lips.

As she stripped out her nightgown, she touched her lips and quivered. Scott had kissed her again before bidding her goodnight. Her heart fluttered like bird trapped in a cage. She was partly terrified of being caught and more aroused by the overwhelming sensations he'd unleashed in her. Mind swimming, she could hardly coax her body to settle down for the remainder of the night to sleep. All through the wee hours of morning, she tossed and turned, dreamt, got up, and paced her room. She even envied Jubilee who slumbered and snored rather loudly not too far away. It wasn't until 4pm did her head touch the pillow.

"Come on girl," Jubilee shouted, banging on the door. "Hurry up!"

"I haven't even started," Rogue screamed, stepping into the steaming shower.

"Well, don't waste all the hot water!"

Swirling around, the spunky firecracker threw her hands in the air and stormed to the bedroom door, her rage intensifying by the incessant raps on the oak. "What!" She demanded, yanking it open.

"Hey," Kitty said nervously with a playful wave.

Jubilee let out a breath and rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"

"I…uh, was just wondering if you and Rogue were to class today."

"Yes we are. Unlike you A students, we less than exceptional girls have to work extra hard to survive. What do you really want Pryde ?"

Biting her lip, Kitty lowered her head, strumming a brown strand of hair behind her hair. "I was wondering if I can I borrow your hairbrush."

Jubilee narrowed her eyes. "You can't think of anything better than that?"

"Shit Jubes," Kitty shrieked. "You stopped talking to me what else can I say."

"I'm sorry," she pointed out. "Grovel at Rogue's feet and admit that you're a slut."

"I don't have to explain myself," Kitty stiffened, eyes flashing darkly. "Bobby was the one who sought me out. He pursued me, not the other way around."

"Do you expect me to believe that," snubbed Jubilee.

Tears glimmered in Kitty's eyes. "It's true!"

"Even if it is, that's not the point. You were seeing him while he was still dating Rogue, regardless if their relationship was on the rocks. You broke the rules. You violated a sacred creed established by girlfriends and sisters since the dawn of time. All current  _and_ ex-boyfriends are off limits, don't you know that!"

Kitty opened her mouth to return a comment when she heard Rogue in the background. "Jubes who are you screaming?" asked Rogue.

"A horny toad!" She snapped and shut the door in Kitty's face. "Finally." She gave a her friend a bemused grin as she headed to the shower then yelled out. "Thanks for saving the hot water!"

"You're welcome." Rogue grinned, retrieving the 50's cut floral cotton sundress she had purchased at Macy's. Scott had been adamant about her constant desire to wear, heavy, dark clothing. She couldn't help it. For a long time, her skin held her prisoner, forcing her to wear the most hideous of clothes. Now, she was to suddenly brighten the mood. She pressed the dress to her chest and stood in front of a full length mirror.

Her mouth quirked into a cute smile. She had to admit, it was cute. "I hope he thinks so too." She took the dress off the hanger, discarded her robe and slipped into the soft material. It fit her perfectly, like it did at the mall. She took out a pair of white sandals and slipped them onto her feet. By then, Jubilee came out the bathroom, a towel around her waist, hair tied in a scrunchie. She took one look a Rogue and her face pooled into a wave of excitement.

"Oohh, look at you. Did you buy that yesterday? It looks fantastic! You'll have Mr. Summer's eating out you're hands."

"Ugh, stop it Jubilee."

"What!" The Asian giggled, reaching for her clothes.

Rogue squirmed in her seat. She was having a difficult time concentrating on Scott's teachings, much less writing down the formulas he scribbled on the black board. Each time he turned to call on her to answer a question, which was often, she burned intensely when his eyes landed on her. His sweet lips would then curl into a generous smile. How could a man look so damn sexy and serious at the same time. She heard whispers. Awed speculations as to why he wasn't wearing his specials shades. She heard a few girls giggling…saying something about how pretty his eyes were.

Naturally, she would've been jealous, if their compliments weren't sincere and spot on the money, but they were. Scott possessed the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen. They twinkled like stars whenever he grinned, sparkling to match his smile. A smile that took her breath away. He was in an extraordinarily good mood, laughing with the students, making jokes, yet his eyes would rest on her causing her to fidget and tap her feet.

Issuing the assignment, he closed early. "Remember the end of the week is you're first test, and yes I want to see all the work, every step, no excuses," he turned to look at Rogue. "May I see you a moment?"

"Um, sure," she said and stole a glance at Jubilee. She winked then took off out the classroom, hoping to catch Peter before her next session. When the door clicked shut, Scott advanced in two steps, cupped her face to plant a tender kiss on her lips. "What was that for?"

"You think I was going to let you get away without my morning kiss," he grinned, stroking her cheek. She blushed. His eyes trailed downwards. "You look nice. Macy's?"

"You know it." He pulled her against him, rubbing his chin on the top of her head. Sighing, she rested her head on his hard chest and slid her hands up his back. They held each other for what seem like on eon before breaking apart.

"What do you say to lunch, here, is that okay with you?"

"Fine." She lifted her head, smiling.

He bent down to kiss her before allowing her leave. He didn't want her late for her History course with Ororo. Alone, he busied himself by cleaning the blackboard, and straightened the papers on his desk, when the door open and close. "Did you forget something?" he asked cheerily believing Rogue might have left a pencil behind and used that as ploy to see him again. "Jean?"

She stood in the center of the classroom, her face riddled in pain. Her large hazel eyes were wet with tears, glimmering in frustration, anger, sorrow-Scott couldn't tell for sure what emotion emanated in her eyes. He stiffened. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk," she said in a low tone.

Scott sighed. "I've said my peace Jean."

"Scott, don't let it end this way. I know we can make it work. I made a terrible mistake when I slept with Logan. I admit it." She went to him, pausing in front of his desk. "Please, let me do right by you."

"That's just it Jean. You can never do right by me. Because every time I look at you I'll imagine you with him and…and it makes me sick to my stomach." He turned aside, rubbing his jaw. "It's better we break. I want a fresh start."

"A fresh start," she gasped, then darkened. "A fresh start with who, Rogue, she just a child Scott. My god are you crazy, do want to get arrested."

"There's nothing wrong with what I'm doing with Rogue," he lashed out angrily.

"She's seventeen. You're gallivanting around with a minor like a love struck teenager." She leaned against the desk, lowering her voice. "You  _kissed_  her."

"You spying on us now," his eyes flashed.

"As an administrator of this school, I have to show a genuine concern for the welfare of my students. And Rogue  _is_ a student. If you continue this relationship I'll have no choice but to take this matter to the proper authorities. Scott, I don't want to see you throw you're life away, or worse end up in jail."

Scott glared at the woman he once loved, incredulous, downright disgusted. Was she threatening him. "I never knew you to be vindictive Jean, manipulative yes, but evil, never."

She shrugged carelessly. "Well," she let out breath. "One of us has to think about dear, sweet Rogue, now don't we." She locked an intense gaze on him. "Don't push me Scott. If you're smart, you won't purse a relationship with her." She turned and headed out the room. "Believe me, it's what's best not only for you but for Rogue."

Enraged, Scott shoved the papers off his desk.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief

**Present Time: Westchester, New York**

… _later in the day…_

After lecturing for an hour, Ororo Munroe hastily made her way to the kitchen, to pig out on leftover pizza, Chinese food, and the carton of Häagen Dazs stashed in the back of the freezer. Her appetite had picked up lately, which wasn't surprising, she was pregnant and was now eating for two. She'd made arrangements to see Hank tomorrow morning. He was going to perform her first ultrasound and prescribe Pre-natal vitamins to ensure a healthy pregnancy.

At the thought of an ultrasound, she saddened. It would have been nice to have Logan by her side, holding her hand, as they witnessed the miracle that was their child.

But then, who knows if this child was even Logan's, after all, she'd slept with Hank; there was always the horrifying factor he fathered her baby. She released a haggard sigh, clamping a protective hand over her flat stomach.

Stress.

It wasn't good for her and certainly not for her child.

Entering the kitchen, she went to the refrigerator, and peeked inside. She frowned. Someone else had beaten her to the pizza. Spying the Chinese food, she removed two cartons, one filled with white rice, the other sesame chicken, and set them on the counter. To her dismay, she locked eyes with Logan. He was sitting in the corner, smoking a cigar, a cold beer resting on the table.

"You shouldn't smoke," she said passively, while sharing her food onto a plate, and putting it in the microwave.

"You talkin' to me now," he arched a brow in surprise. "It's a step up from yesterday."

Ororo let out a breath, shaking her head. "I…I really don't want…to get into this with you."

"We're gonna have to, eventually."

She addressed him with cold, unblinking blue eyes. He tipped his head, gauging her, before turning eyes to the ceiling, and taking a huge swig on his beer. An harsh silence dominated the kitchen, which was soon disrupted by the alarm going off in the microwave. Ororo covered the short distance to the counter and took out the steaming food.

It smelled heavenly.

Selecting a glass, she went back to the fridge, and poured some lemonade. Without a backward second glance at Logan, she headed towards the exit, intent on keeping the peace less things exploded out of control. "You can't keep avoiding me forever 'Ro."

She looked over her shoulder, glowering. "If I didn't avoid you, I might kill you."

"How long are you gonna hold my sins against me?"

Lowering her eyes, Ororo tried to hone in on her anger, and guilt. She knew wasn't a saint in this matter. Her sin was downstairs, busy, investigating Rogue's profound breakthrough, and Scott's sudden ability to see without his visors. She didn't know how Logan would react if he knew she'd been intimate with Hank. Her head jerked up to the sound of the chair scraping across the floor. She stiffened as he came to her, his eyes pleading.

"Ro," he said tenderly, brushing his fingers through her hair, grazing her cheek. "I'm sorry. I ain't perfect…I fucked up…but…you know me…I don't know how to be a boyfriend."

Outrage, Ororo slapped him hard in the face, her plate of food and drink crashing to the floor in a huge mess. "That's you're excuse. After all you've done to humiliate me in front of everyone, that's the best you can come up with!"

Logan reeled back, eyes black, his pride burning. "Damn it 'Ro! I'm trying to make it right between us?"

"Make it right! You could never make it!" She roared, lashing at him, the tears blinding her as she laid savage blows on his body. "I…loved you…you hurt me…I hate…you!"

He seized her by the wrist, halting her frantic attacks. "Okay, fine…you hate me! But don't think ya completely innocent! It didn't give me the slightest pleasure to crawl in to bed next to you when I knew you slept with  _him_!"

Frozen, Ororo recoiled as though she'd been burned by fire. She peered at Logan, eyes large in fright, tears rolling down her dark cheeks. He was beside himself in rage; his anger emanated off his body in waves.

"Wha-what are you talking about?"

He flinched, unsure the soft wisp was Ororo's voice. "I talking about you…fuzz ball…and the week you all went up to D.C."

She clamped a hand on her mouth in horror. "Oh my god."

Darkening, Logan went on. "Made you feel good to paint me as the bad guy didn't it! Logan, the horny, ill-bred, blood hound who can't seem to keep it in his pants!"

"If you knew about Hank and I, why did you come back?"

"I came back for the baby!" He roared, grabbing her at the shoulders. "And for you…and the hope we might be able to patch things between us. I was wrong. I come home and find you all cozy with him! Why him huh? Why?" He shook her roughly. "Answer me why?"

Ororo fought to be free from his hold. When he let her go, she took two steps to the door, glaring hot daggers at him. "You have no right to make demands on me or ask me questions! I know it wasn't the first time you fucked Jean…and it certainly wasn't the last!" She clamped her fist shaking it in his face, her temper raging out of control. "You want to know why I slept with Hank! It's because I caught you screwing the life out of Jean in her office the day I was to leave for Washington! I wanted revenge! Are you happy now!"

Blinded by his rage, he surged towards her. Ororo cringed backwards, terrified he was going to strike her. "Logan! Ororo!" They spun around to see the Professor in the doorway, a look of extreme agitation on his face. "Please…for god sakes…enough! Ororo…think about the baby…please!"

Faltering back, Logan stormed to the table he was seated at, snatched his case of beer and cigar pack, and charged out the backdoor.

"God," Ororo whimpered. She was trembling like a leaf. "I can't take this." Without another word, she fled past the Professor.

* * *

 

"There you are?" Rogue cried, racing down the length of the garage, embracing Scott in a big bear hug. "I was shocked when I went back to your classroom and you weren't there. I thought we were having lunch together?"

"Sorry," Scott said forcing a smile, wringing a towel in his hands. For the last two hours he'd been going over Jean's threat. Trying to find a way out of the scheme she'd concocted out sheer spite and jealously. "It must have slipped my mind."

"That's okay," she giggled, brushing her fingers in his hair. "I wasn't in the mood to eat anyway." Hiking on her toes, she tilted her head, lightly taking his mouth in a kiss.

Shuddering, want unleashing a wave of desire through his flesh, he took her of arms, pushing her aside before he did something he would regret. "Not now," he sighed, much to Rogue's surprise, and went back to waxing his car.

Tipping her head, Rogue stood there looking confused, watching Scott practically ignore her. "Is something wrong?"

He looked at her. "No, why?"

"I don't know," she said. "Earlier you couldn't wait to get your hands on me, now you're acting as if you can't stand my presence. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he clarified, releasing a puff of air from his lungs. Gripping the towel sopped in turtle wax, he rubbed his car earnestly. "I mean-" he continued, swerving around to stare deep into eyes. "I think we should take things slowly. I don't want to rush you into anything you don't want to do."

Rogue went to him, resting her hands on his chest. "I know you wouldn't Scott," she grinned. "But that doesn't me we can't fool around a bit. Do some experimenting." Stroking her finger over his mouth, she pushed enticingly into his body, her pert breast connecting with chest making him groan. "You don't know how depressing it's been for me these last two years." She nuzzled his neck, breathing in his manly scent, pressing warm kisses to his skin.

Turning his head, he met her lips, and wrapped his arms about her waist. As they kissed passionately, Scott lifted her off the floor and set her on his car. Rogue spread her legs, enclosing them around his hips, fiercely clawing her fingers in his hair. She moaned when his hands slipped under her shirt to caress skin that had been hidden from physical contact for the longest time. He skimmed up her side to cup her breast and she shivered. Reality soon tore into his consciousness, forcing him to see what he was doing, particularly when he felt her small hands tug on his belt.

Aching, Scott seized hold of her wrists, arresting them in a strong grip. "What are you doing?" he demanded far more roughly than he would've like.

He saw the pained expression in her eyes. "I just…I wanted to touch…you."

He withdrew and reached down to the snag the cloth that had fallen on the floor. Rogue monitored his movements through narrowed eyes. "What's gotten into you Scott? Why are you being like this? I was just…going with the flow. Don't you want…me…?"

"I do…so much…you're wonderful…amazing…I've never been so happy…but…"

"But?"

"I…I might as well be honest with you. I don't think I'm ready for a relationship just yet. I do like you R-Marie. You're cute, but I'm still hurting over Jean…still love her."

It broke him to watch the anguish chase over her lovely face, to see her flee the garage, her earful wails echoing the garage. He grimaced. Damn Jean! But what could he do? He didn't want Marie apart of Jean's twisted little vendetta. He would rather cut off his right arm than see her hurt by the wretched woman.

"I'm sorry." His heart cried.

Rogue's anguish was beyond the startling realization of the day she found out Bobby no longer desired her. She sat for hours outside the little cottage, wretched, staring out at the churning waters of the lake. Her face was white, tears long dried, stained her ashen cheeks, and her eyes were red.  _Cute_. Scott called her  _cute_. Cute was best to describe a puppy, not her. She yearned to beautiful, desirable, loved, not  _cute_.

She winced, touching her temple.

The chance of such an occurrence was never going to happen now. Scott was still hurting, still in love with Jean. After what that horrid tramp had done, she plagued his thoughts, still drove him wild with her dusky beauty and womanly curves. Rogue knew then she was just fooling herself. How could she possibly compare to a woman who'd been the love of his life. It was stupid to believe she could ever make him happy.

She blinked crazily, tears welling underneath her long lashes. She didn't want to cry; she'd been crying for hours, yet the tears slipped down her face again. Covering her face, she gave into the grief strangling her in a death hold.

"Kid?"

She raised her eyes, finding Logan standing over her. Angry he'd come across her in such a state, she wiped her face furiously and rose. "What do you want?"

"I was just…what's the matter?"

"Nothing that concerns you," she hissed, and a made a retreat for inside the cottage.

Logan followed. "It's Scott isn't it. That son-of-a bitch!"

"No!" Rogue whirled around. "It's nothing to do with Scott. It's you! You! Everything was fine until you came back! Why don't you leave?"

"I've got business here," he snapped.

"What kind of business?"

"It ain't got nothing to do with you kid!"

"Well it's got everything to do with Ms. Munroe, that much is certain." she said pointedly. "And even she don't want you here!"

"If 'Ro don't want me, fine," he roared. "But don't think I'm leaving my baby without a father."

Rogue drew back startled. "Baby? What the hell are you talking about? What baby?"

He narrowed his black eyes on her. "What you're gonna tell me you don't know?"

"Know what?" she said in alarm. "Is Ms. Munroe pregnant?"

Logan's face shaped into shock, his mouth fell open, and his eyes went wide. "You don't know. She didn't tell you guys. Jesus."

"Tell us what?"

He pressed his lips together, suddenly rocked by a hard hitting factor. Ororo was going to keep quiet about the baby. She was going to do it old school, slip away when she could no longer hide her condition, then return with a so-called dead cousin's child to raise. She had no plans to tell him, probably never. Hurt, he took off down the road, leaving Rogue lost in confusion. He then broke into a hard run, anger pumping through his veins like poison.

Did she hate him that?

If she wanted to exact her revenge, couldn't she hire a bunch of ball busting skin heads to do the job. Sweat drenched his body. The forest foliage soon grew thick and he slashed his way through the vegetation till his energy was spent. Sinking to his knees, breath sharp, he tried to make sense of the mess he'd fallen into. All he needed was a chance…one chance to prove himself…one chance to make right all the wrong he'd created. If he was ever given such a chance he would do right by Storm.

He promised.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act brings hurt and grief.

** Present Time: Westchester, New York **

… _several days later…_

It started with a question that ended in a full scale brawl.

The lines had been drawn so tight they were bound to snap. An inquiry to the whereabouts of Storm by Hank McCoy had lit the fuse inside Logan's head. Without reservation, he charged the Secretary full force, claws unsheathed, into a wall in the foyer. Dust and plaster fell about Hank's feet as he reared up, enraged. Diplomacy and respect for individuals fizzled like dew in the rising sun. Raging, the Beast he tamed for years took control.

He struck Wolverine like a venomous snake, dodging his razor sharp claws, ramming his massive bulk into the odious male. They slammed full force into a cedar table resting in the hall, shattering a priceless Ming vase, flowers trampled under the weight of their bodies. Logan smashed his fist into his head, the indestructible metal under his knuckles delivered a stunning blow. Grunting, Beast roared, a dizzying pain blinding him, he keeled over.

Wolverine shot to his feet, slashing Beast across the back, his adamantium claws shredding his white shirt. Blood seeped through the cotton fabric, but quickly evaporated as Beast's wound closed, leaving only a clump of darkened blue fur. "Don't look so surprise, you're not the only one who's unique," he cackled, catching the look of surprise in Logan's face. Scaling off the ground, he surged to Wolverine, delivering smashing blows his face and torso, he moved in amble agility.

Beast used Logan's sluggish movements all due to the metal lacing his bones to his advantage. He blocked every feeble thrust of the sharp blades, gripping the arm, his claws punctured Wolverine's skin, causing him let out roaring howl. Lifting him, he tossed him through the main doors, splintering the oak, breaking the class fixtures. Wolverine flew a good distance, mouth swallowing bits of dirt and rock, his flesh scraping against concrete as he slammed into the ground. By then, students had scattered like a flock of birds throughout the mansion, fleeing the onslaught.

Scraping himself off the paved earth, Logan hissed as he pressed a hand to his side, retracting the appendage to see his fingertips soiled with blood. He staggered, groaning, feeling his body piece itself together, then cracked his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Beast bounding toward him like a wild animal possessed by a demon. Eyes growing black, he squared his shoulders, standing face front. His six inch daggers slid out of his hands fueling his already incensed anger.

* * *

 

… _later in the day…_

"Oh, man, they were like two dogs fightin' over a bone," Jubilee cried, bouncing on Rogue's bed in all energy and excitement as she went into a detailed description on what happened that afternoon. "If it weren't for the Professor, someone might've ended up dead." She pressed two fingers to her lips and thought a moment. "But I don't think that's like possible since they can both can heal pretty damn quick." She glanced over to Rogue and frowned. Once again, her friend had taken leave of the mansion, unable to face her utter humiliation at being rejected by Scott. She'd found refuge inside one of the lakeside cottages and had been crying herself to sleep every night. "Rogue?"

She flipped about in her seat, startled her friend was gone, and she was alone. She rose. Looking about the cottage, she spotted Rogue standing on the shoreline of the lake, and went outside. Rogue was staring forlornly on the lake. Her arms wrapped were about her and she dropped her head as she took a breath. A gentle wind brushed the surface, causing the water to fan out in rolling waves. The sun reflected on the lake and the lake sparkled like diamonds. Hesitantly, Jubilee walked down to bank, overlooking her dismal state.

"Rogue?" she asked. "Jesus, girl! You scared the shit out of me! Don't disappear like that." She looked at Rogue critically. She could see something was bothering her. "Are you okay?"

For a while, Rogue said nothing before she spoke. "So, where are we going for my birthday. I know we going to celebrate by heading out to the mall, shopping until we drop, then we're going to dance the night away. Flirt disgracefully with every cute guy who offers to buy you a drink.."

Jubilee's forehead bunched together. "Are you okay?" she asked, knowing it was not Rogue's style to up and suddenly want to party.

Rogue giggled. "Yeah," she said, brown eyes widening. "I not going to let anything spoil this day, especially when I know you got the hookup for the club right."

"You know I do." Jubilee said, a devious smile on her face, holding up two fake id cards.

"Wow these are great!"

"I know! John has his uses. He's real good."

Her eyes widened when she saw Jubilee pull out a set of keys. "Is that what I think it is?"

"That's right!" Jubilee exclaimed. "The keys to the Porsche. Let's blow this joint!"

A quick change of clothes, the girls hurried to garage, mindful not run into any members of faculty as they made their escape; currently, Rogue was suppose to making up for all the lost time, when she was Hawaii with Scott.

To Rogue's surprise, John and Peter were there waiting. She should've known two wouldn't be company. Pecking her boyfriend on the cheek, Jubilee slid in the driver's side, fired up the engine, and powered down the driveway.

"We're going to get in so much trouble," Rogue said, giggling, looking to the rear of the car.

"Lighten up, stripes" John said with a mocking grin. "We're doing this for you, you know. I could be in my room studying." Everyone started laughing, he glared. "What's so fuckin' hilarious?"

Jubilee chuckled. "John, you'd do anything but study."

"Fuck all of you" he said, half serious, half joking.

Surprisingly, Rogue found she could laugh again, a wonderful distraction from her thoughts and abjection. Jubilee dropped the sunroof and she lay her head back, loving the wind tousled her hair, and caused the sleek platinum locks to bounce on her cheeks. When she felt John staring at her, she turned and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

He shrugged and focused on the view flashing by. "Nothin'."

"Whatever."

By mid afternoon, they'd reached the Queen's Mall and parked the car in a public lot. Scurrying to the entrance, the girls chatted up a storm, laughing, while Peter and John hung back. Putting the Professor's credit cards to some use, Rogue and Jubilee raced into every high end fashion store.

"I think we're going to be here a while." Peter said, shaking his head as he watched his girlfriend and Rogue sift through the endless racks.

"No shit," John grumbled, hands shoved in his pockets, fingering the lighter he never went anywhere without. "Look, man, I'm starved. I gonna grab some food."

"I'll come with you," said Peter. "Just let me just tell Jubes we're heading out."

"I didn't know you had to clock in and out," John said snidely, toying with his lighter.

Peter glowered at him then turned. "Babe, we're going to get a bite. We'll be at the food court?" Jubilee merely waved him away with the flick of her fingers as she piled an endless amount of clothes on her arm. "They're gonna be awhile." He said as they left.

"Maybe we could see a movie." John implied humorously.

"Finally! What took you guys so long…" Peter's voice faded as he took in the tremendous amount of shopping bags his girl and best friend lugged along with them. "What did you buy out the entire mall?"

"Almost." Jubilee giggled, handing him the bags.

"The Professor's going to freak," he said.

Rogue tipped her head as she glanced John's direction. "Well," she cleared her throat. "Aren't you going to take my bags."

"Do I look like a fuckin' bust boy." He snarled, eyes glinting.

"Charming to the last." She said, glowering. He shrugged and continued to pet his lighter; the one that was eternally glued to his hand. She couldn't understand why he always had to take it with him everywhere. "I'm hungry."

"Should've came when we ate."

"Whatever."

She made her way to a nearby Burger King stand and purchased a meal then went off to take a seat at a table. Munching on her food, she watched as Jubilee smothered Peter with kisses, and rolled her eyes. The two needed to get a room. John caught the look of discontent wrinkling her brow and cocked his head in amusement. Was she jealous? He shook his head as his mouth coiled into a cynical smirk. Poor Rogue. She was still vying for the affections of an uptight ass wipe who couldn't tell the difference between her obvious distaste of the public scene. Regarding her, he slowly swept his hands over his lighter. Was she jealous? Upset her friend was getting loving and not her. He'd heard how things went to hell with Scott. Now, she locked herself in one of cottages down by the lake as one would lock themselves in a tomb. He sneered. She was so weak. So pathetic. She should've known better than to fall for a guy on the rebound. Spying a soda machine he slipped four quarters into it and retrieved a Pepsi.

"If that's for me, thanks, I've already got my drink," she said.

"It's not," he said casually, sliding into the seat next to her.

Rogue wiped her mouth, utterly annoyed. "Why did you come here John if you're sole purpose is to be a scumbag."

"I think that's a title best left for what Mr. Summers did to you."

She shot out of her seat vexed. "You freakin' asshole."

"Pumps your breaks stripes," he chuckled. "I was only yankin' your chain."

"Something your familiar with." Picking up her tray, she crossed to the garbage bin and dumped her trash. Collecting her shopping bags, she went to Jubilee. "I've had enough fun. I want to go home."

"What?" The Asian mutant cried. "I thought we were going to head to the club after seeing a matinee."

"I don't feel like it anymore. I want to go home," she said with a great deal of instance. "It's my birthday. We do what I want." Swerving in her heels, she marched out the food court, leaving Jubilee baffled.

She couldn't understand her behavior till she locked eyes with John leaning coolly in his seat. In swift strides she stood before him. "What the hell did you say to her?"

His eyes didn't reach hers. "Nothing."

"Yeah, right." She said blistered with anger.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief.

**_Present Time: Westchester, New York_ **

_…later in the evening…_

"Are you pleased with yourself?" Ororo asked, casually entering the kitchen to discard her cup and plate in the dishwater. The machine being already full she turned on the rinse cycle. She heard of the fight between Logan and Hank and thought it was utterly ridiculous. She had gone out that morning to search for an obstetrician and had earlier made appointments with two prospective doctors. She didn't feel comfortable with Hank treating her after all that had transpired.

"Where the hell have you been!" Logan roared, his black eyes veering off behind his shoulder. He'd been sitting on a stool, his back to her, downing one beer after another, and puffing on his smelly cigars.

She turned, twisting in a half circle, ice-blue eyes cold and flashing. "It's not you're business."

"Like hell it isn't!" He jumped up swinging around so fast he knocked the stool to the tile floor. "That's my child you're carryin' inside you."

Folding her arms, Ororo rested her hips against the counter. "If  _it's_ yours."

He went rigid as though she had zapped him with a lightening bolt. "What do you mean? Of course, the baby is mine. You said you slept with Hank once. We've been together numerous times. Besides, when was the last time you had you're period?"

"After all the stress you put me through," she scoffed, shaking her head, narrowing her gaze on him with disdain. "I don't even remember. But I do know this, whether the baby is yours or Hanks, I  _will_ be taking care of my child all by  _myself_."

"No, you're not," he said grabbing her arm as she started to the door.

Ororo wrenched free. "Don't you touch me! I told you never to touch me!" She pressed her lips together; her nostrils flared on each heavy breath she took. "I don't even know why you're trying so hard to get me back anyway. Jean is  _free_. You can pursue her to your heart's content." She tried to leave but he caught her by the arm once more, forcing her around.

"I don't want Jean," he yelled at the top of his lungs. "I never wanted Jean. I want you!"

"You should have thought about that before you fucked her! And it wasn't just once."

He let curse fall from his lips. "Let's not get into that again."

"Oh, no, we are going to get into it." She pushed away from him, placing a good heap of space between them. She glared at him. How she hated him! "Because I can not understand for the life of my why you fucked my  _ex_ best friend in the first place. What was it about me that you found so undesirable? My hair, my body or was it my skin. Was I too dark for you Logan?"

"It ain't got nothin' to do with that, 'Ro," he cried.

"Then what? I gave you the very best of me Logan, but obviously, that wasn't good enough." She lowered her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I'm not surprised. I should've known better. You were enraptured with Jean the first moment you laid eyes on her. Sometimes, I wonder what might have been if you had met me first."

"We could start over," he said.

She shook her head. "No, we can't. Every time I look at you I see Jean. I see  _her_ all over you then I remember what I did to take revenge and it makes me sick to my stomach."

" 'Ro…give me a chance…"

"I can't." She turned and fled the kitchen.

* * *

 

"I take it things aren't going so well?"

"Take a hike Red," Logan murmured darkly. "I'm not in the mood." He had sniffed Jean out long before she walked in fluid grace across the lawn to the pool where he'd been nursing his wounded pride in cold beers and cigars. At least six empty bottles sat to his right-blasted healing factor made it impossible for him to get a good buzz-and two cigars stubs surrounded the pool chair in a pile of ash.

"Is that how it's come down to between us Logan."

He eyed her closely; she looking ravishing tonight, downright begging for a hard man such himself to throw her over his shoulder and toss onto a bed. Nevertheless, he wasn't hard, least not for her.

"Nothing but shit has come between Jeannie, a great big pile of shit, and it's a stink I'm tryin' like hell to come out of so if you doesn't mind…"

Jean laughed as she eased onto the ground, swinging, and dipping her long gorgeous legs into the water. The strap of her yellow sundress fell off her shoulder, delivering an appetizing peak of her bountiful bosoms. Logan flinched. What the hell kind of game was she playing tonight?

"Where's Scott?" Logan asked, not that he cared, and he didn't. The frickin' asshole had hurt Rogue and he wasn't about to let the prick get away with that.

"Slaving over one his bikes for another long night." She sighed heavily, kicking up her legs, splashing water like a four year old. 'More like pining for Rogue,' she thought bitterly. "He still hasn't forgiven me."

Logan snorted. "Should he?"

Jean snapped her head around; her face contorted angrily, and her eyes grew menacingly bleak, much to his surprise . For a brief instant, he saw a flash of red in those luminous green pupils, and chill race up his spine. Her face soon softened and she looked down on pink brick deck encompassing the pool.

"I made a mistake."

"Yeah, several times," Logan wanted to laugh. "One 'Ro happened to witness. Now both our lives are fucked. She won't talk to me…give me damn chance to..." Growling, he clawed his hand savagely through his hair, bowing his head in between his knees.

In a quick motion, she got out the pool, water drizzling down her legs and calves. She strolled to Logan smiling, bolding rubbing her hand on his broad, muscular shoulder, then grazed his hairy face to tip his chin. He raised his eyes, staring at her in open confusion.

"Don't worry," she whispered, her voice dripping in honey. "If all else fails, you still have me."

He seized her roughly by the shoulders, "What the hell kind of game you playin' Jean?"

She simply smiled and tipped her head and wriggled out of his hold. Logan's brow bunched together as he watched her eyes change color. She left him by the pool without a word leaving him completely dumbfounded.

A wicked grin emerged on Jean's face as Logan's thoughts poured into her mind as she headed toward the mansion. Walking briskly across the grass, her energy soared, a strange awareness came over her; she literally felt alive on fire. Her thoughts blazed with ravenous intentions as she climbed the steps to the library's back door.

She decided the forgo her hesitation in facing Scott and made a sharp turn to the garage. Out the corner of her eyes, she saw something that killed her exultant mood. Scott was heading down the path to one of the cottages Rogue resided.

* * *

 

"Scott," Rogue gasped, opening the door after the third knock.

A rotten birthday had left her in a foul mood thanks to the ever so charming St. John. She didn't know what his deal was, but she certainly wanted smack the hell out of him at the mall. Riding home, she didn't even look at him, but sat stewing in anger. Her birthday in ruins and now they were heading back to one place she didn't want to be.

Not giving Jubilee a chance to place the car in park, she scrambled out and stormed back to cottage, where she belonged. She ignored Jubilee's raving calls, walking in quick steps down the pathway, past the tennis court and pool to her little house by the lake. She entered, flinging her gloves left and right, storming to the bathroom to take a long hot shower. Her cell phone rang but she didn't answer it. She knew it was Jubilee and she knew her friend would try to soothe her taut nerves. Ask if she'd like join her and Peter for a late night of pizza and a movie.

She didn't want to be bothered. She simply wanted to left alone, but, here she was, facing the man who'd tossed her heart into a blender.

Why?

Because he was still in love with his fiancé.

She should have known. It was the story of her life. She always fell for men who didn't love or take the affection she bestowed seriously. What was she jinxed?

"What do you want?"

Scott carefully pulled a gift out from behind his back. "Happy Birthday."

"What's that?"

"I think it's a gift," he said. "A gift meant for you."

"I don't want it," she said coldly. "I don't want anything from you." She drew back inside the house in order to slam the door in his face. Scott rushed forward and placed his hand on door, blocking her attempt to lock him out of her life again.

"Marie, I'm sorry," he cried. "I-I miss you."

She looked at him as though he had grown horns. "You're not serious," she said dryly. "You think that's going to make up for the humiliation I feel."

"No," he admitted, shaking his head. "I just thought we could try to go back to being friends."

"Not possible." She started pushing roughly on the door.

Scott held his ground. "Marie, please, it was never my intention to hurt you. I just felt we were rushing things."

"That's all you had to say Scott," she snapped. "But you butchered my heart when you told me you were still in love with Jean." She pounded her chest in anguish. "How's that suppose to make me feel, especially when I thought something wonderful was happening to me for the first time in my wretched life."

"You must understand-"

"I don't understand! And quite frankly I don't want to know!"

"Marie, listen to me…I care about you…I-"

"…need to get the hell out of my face," she snarled. "That's what you need to do. And you can take you're tired ass gift with you." At that, she slammed the door in his face, leaving Scott looking like a dimwitted fool on the step.

* * *

 

_...the next morning..._

"How's it going Ms. Munroe?" Rogue croaked, wandering into the kitchen. Her head ached and her mouth was dry. After Scott had left, she broke into the Professor's office and stolen away with a bottle of gin. Yes, she was a minor, but she didn't care. She needed something, anything, to ease the pain in her heart.

"Alright," Storm sighed, dropping two tiny marshmallows into her hot chocolate. "Considering." She rolled her eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"Considering the men in our lives suck."

Ororo turned to look at the girl. "Exactly." She dropped the spoon on the counter and blew into the steaming brew, taking a sip. "But I'm not going to let it bother me. I can't. I have other things to worry about."

"Like…like a baby," said Rogue, hesitantly.

Ororo gasped. "How do you know-"

"I…I overheard Logan…he was ranting and raving." Selecting a blueberry muffin and pouring some orange juice, Rogue took her things to the island counter, and scooted onto a stool. "Don't worry I won't tell anyone." She said noticing how rigid and scared she looked.

"Thanks," Ororo smiled, sitting across from Rogue. They said nothing for a while, merrily content in enjoying each other's silent company.

"Does the Professor know?" Rogue asked out of curiosity.

"He was the one who suspected I was pregnant when he sensed the baby's brain waves."

Rogue's eyes widened. "I didn't know he could do that!"

"Neither did I," said Storm then lowered her eyes into her cup.

Rogue stretched out a gloved hand to place it onto of Ororo's. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just sick of feeling sorry for myself that's all. Tired of lingering on what could have been. It's not good for me and it's certainly not good for the baby."

"I know what you mean," said Rogue, giving the older woman's hand a gentle squeeze.

"You keep wearing those gloves," she commented, a smile in her eyes.

"It's a habit." She pulled back and rubbed her fingers together, "and I'm not sure how this is possible."

"Maybe Scott has been the influence you needed…that level of trust you never had with Bobby or Logan." Ororo groaned. "God knows I've made a terrible judgment in that area."

The young girl's mouth pressed into a hard line and her hazel eyes became hard. "Let's not wonder into that field."

"He does miss you."

Rogue glared at the African goddess. "Did he tell you to say that?"

"No," she shook her head. "It's just an observation."

"Well, that's just too bad for him. He made his choice."

Scott took it upon that very moment to enter the kitchen while the two women sat talking. He paused, surprise to see Rogue in the mansion of all places, and gave her a faint smile. Without out so much as a glance, Rogue left the kitchen, and returned to the privacy of her cottage.

"She's still mad at me," he said.

"Does she have reason not to be," Ororo said. "You practically took a meat grinder to the poor dear's heart."

"I had my reasons Storm."

"Reasons that involve Jean, no doubt," she said with an air of disgust. "I can't imagine why you're still in love with that selfish, imprudent woman."

He glared at Ororo. "I'm not in love with her Ororo."

"Then what's the problem. Rogue is a kind and thoughtful person. Like you she has a good heart I don't see why you have to-"

"She's too young for me."

Ororo rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. As I recall you were quiet taken with Jean at the tender age of sixteen while she was nineteen."

"That's different."

"How different?"

"She's my student and I didn't have a felony hanging over my head."

"It's only a crime, if you sleep with her, and I doubt the Professor would allow that as long as you both reside in this school," Ororo reasoned.

"Just leave it alone," he muttered, storming out the kitchen.

"You brought it up," she fired back, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single act of betrayal brings hurt and grief

**Present Time: Westchester, New York**

"So," came a sultry drawl from out of nowhere. "What's the score between you and the little brown mouse?"

Rigid, Bobby slowly turned to see Polaris reclining against the doorway to the library, a saucy smile upon her lips. "What's it to you?" he snorted, tossing a couple of books into his backpack. He'd been there for exactly two hours prepping for the Pre-SAT. Still, he had had trouble concentrating. He couldn't get Kitty out of his mind; and the fact he'd hurt wasn't working well with brain cells he needed to focus.

"Everything," Polaris said coolly, boldly stepping into the library, using her control of metal to close and mechanically lock the door. She sauntered to him, hips swaying from side to side. Her emerald hair swished over her shoulder and seemed to glow once caught in the gleam of yellow sunlight flowing in through the window. "We're not exactly friends, Bobby," she grinned, sliding her fingers up his chest. "But we are lovers." She hiked onto her toes licking his lips like a cat. "I've never been good with competition."

A wicked smile curling the edge of her lips, she took his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. She sucked furiously on his bottom lip, before thrusting her tongue to explore the warm cavern of his mouth. Bobby shivered, excitement and hot lust, coursing through his body. Instinctively, his arms folded about Polaris' slim waist, pulling her close, his hips grinding into the valley of her pelvis.

"Nah," he sneered, pushing her away after a moment. "That's not gonna work again Lorna. Not this time!"

She grinned, moving to him, draping her long arms on his shoulder. "Always does," she cooed, teasing his face with her nose, pecking his lips in a kiss.

Aggravated, Bobby caught her just as she was about to take his throbbing erection in her hand. He grunted. "I can't do this with you anymore."

Polaris' face darkened. A visage of rage and astonishment mutilated the delicate features of her face. "What do you mean—you can't—Bobby?"

"It's over Lorna," he said casually, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, making his move to the door. "It's was fun while it lasted…but…I'm in love with Kitty. I gonna try to work things out with her."

Using the metal on his buckle and book bag, she hurled him in a furious rage across the room, smashing him hard against the bookshelf. Books toppled to the ground as she increased the magnetic pressure and with her bracelets and anklets levitated in front of him. "I say when it's over!" she hissed, green eyes flashing.

Bobby squirmed and thrashed, gagging as he struggled for air. Polaris glared at his pathetic attempt to break free of the magnetic hold she had over him.

"Did you think you were gonna to treat me like some little slut you can bang and toss in the trash? I don't think so." She let him dangle ten feet off the ground for a few seconds longer then let him drop hard to floor. He wheezed and shook, sucking in air, crouching into a fetal position.

"Damn," she cried, checking to time on her watch. "I gotta go. Exams start in ten minutes." She looked at him and smirked. "I'll see you tonight…I presume."

* * *

 

**The Lower Levels: Two Days Later**

Bent over a microscope, Hank toiled. Blue eyes locked in a fierce gaze, he studied the cellular reaction to a protein base complex he formulated not too long ago. Through this solution patients who'd undergone organ transplants would suffer far less of a reaction; their bodies would adapt easily and would not treat the donated organ as a foreign body. He was getting close, so very close. A breakthrough was imminent.

For momentary pause, his mind reflected on Carly White, a patient at Northwest General Hospital, a woman on the waiting list for a heart transplant. Outraged anti-mutant activistS prevented him from ministering further care to her. She was bright, sweet, and one of few humans in the world who wasn't afraid of him because he was a mutant.

He immersed the cells in a thick, milky colored solution and monitored the minutes before the cells became unstable and broke down. "Impressive," he said, recording the entire action on his video journal. "Forty minutes. An Improvement. Much longer than last week." He stretched, yawned, and checked his watch. Quarter to twelve. He'd been down here at least four hours. He cleaned up his work station; carefully putting away cells and the solution in the deep freeze.

Hank stretched again.

It was Saturday. The summer was just beginning. Professor Xavier wanted to throw a little barbeque to boost the morale of the mansion. Hell, the old man could manipulate them to do his will and it wouldn't change what was already done. Hearts were wounded. Prides were crushed. He shouldn't expect this 'so-called' party was going to appease everyone. Not to mention his feelings for Ororo. He was disappointed when she denied his invitation to see to her pre-natal care, but then again, their relationship wasn't in great standing. In fact, they were barely speaking...ever since... _he_ returned.

Exiting the laboratory, he walked somberly down the hall to elevator. He took taking a large, agonized breath just before the 'ding' that alerted him to his arrival on the main floor, parted the elevator doors. He stepped off the lift, turned right to the impressively large English style kitchen, which lead to the pool yard.

Music pulsed, shaking the glass inside windows.

Steadying his nerves, Hank twisted the door knob, and stepped out into the warm climate. But the tension he expected to find was not among the group of young individuals running amok about the pool. While the younger students splashed in the water, the older ones gathered by the maple and oak trees, sipping drinks, laughing and talking. Most, if not all, of the adults had remained missing in action. Only Angel lingered; surrounded by a great many young girls who held him on a pedestal as though he were a true angel sent from heaven.

Sighing, Hank took his position by the grill, firing it up.

"Hey, Hank," said Ororo coming up behind and taking him by surprise.

"Ororo," he cried. He glanced around and she let out a soft sigh.

"Don't worry, _he's_ not here. I think he took off on another one of his Saturday morning beer binges." "I'm not worried about him," he said blandly.

"Neither am I," she stepped to his right setting the fruit salad on the table. "I'm glad he's not here. Gives me a chance to breathe."

Hank looked at her closely. "Has he been bothering you?"

"No," she shook her head, raking her fingers through her long white hair, "not really, but he has been persistent."

"Well, don't let the bastard get you don't."

"That BASTARD is standing right here, bub!"

Hank and Ororo turned sharply, mortified to see Logan knocking back a can of Bud Light. "What are you doing here?" Ororo yelled.

Logan shrugged. "It's a free country. And this school is open to all mutants."

"Open to some," Hank muttered as he flipped the burgers onto the piping hot grill, "although it shouldn't be to all."

Livid, Logan stalked to him, claws piercing the thin layer of skin. "What was that? I didn't quite hear you."

Hank rotated quickly, slapping his oven mittens and spatula on the buffet table. "Do I have to spell if for you young man?"

"Stop it both of you! Good Lord! You're behaving like children!" Xavier snapped, wheeling his chair in between the two feral men. "We will not have a repeat of prior week's episode. Now this dispute of yours comes to an end or I'll end it for you." The feuding men glared at each other a second longer before Logan adjourned to the far side of the pool.

"You're not joining the festivities?" Xavier asked, motioning his chair into Scott's classroom, after little while. He found his protégé standing in front of a large ceiling high window, one that gave him an absolutely perfect view of the pool and the barbeque taking place at the appointed time.

He had called for this festive arrangement.

It was a way for students who'd remaining under his care to convene and relax, despite what had occurred weeks before the school had adjourned for the summer break. Deep down, he wanted some sense of normality to return to the mansion. After weeks of discords, malice, and scornful glares, he'd had enough of playing the neutral in everyone's lives and decided to press for a resolution. But it was going to tricky. He knew the adults didn't like it when he meddled in their personal affairs, but he had to try.

"Uh, no—I—I've some papers to grade," Scott replied, stunned by the old man's appearance.

Xavier turned an inquisitive eye to the desk set back near a huge black board. The surface was barren except for a pencil holder and stapler. He then observed Scott closely, felt the light thoughts traveling subtly throughout his head without the slightest need to concentrate. Rogue's happy face played in those thoughts and he smiled to himself in understanding.

"Why don't you speak to her?"

Scott spun around sharply, his brow wrinkling into a sneer. "Who? Jean! No. There's no way I'm walking down that milestone again."

"I wasn't referring to Jean."

It took Scott less than a second to realize to whom the Professor was referring. Letting out an annoyed grunt, he returned to his desk, brushing the tips of his fingers over the surface. "No, not you too."

Xavier wheeled his chair into a semi-circle. "I take it I'm not the first to grace you with this subject."

"Professor—"

"Scott," the older man interrupted, "I know you care about Rogue. I know it was never you're intention to break her heart."

"It was someone else's intention," he muttered.

Easing deeply into his chair, Xavier frowned, releasing a sigh that exemplified his sheer disapproval of Jean's behavior. He knew she'd threatened Scott, which led to the breakup of the pair. Jealously had always been a foul virtue of the woman even when she was a student.

"Dating someone younger than you are is not a serious offense."

"It is if she's a student!" Scott yelled.

"Boundaries can be set," Xavier implied, lacing his fingers together. "I have no qualms with you seeing, much less dating Rogue, so long as you wait until she's ready to become more…intimate."

Scott looked at the Professor if he'd grown horns on his head. "Does the word Statutory Rape mean anything to you?"

Xavier pressed, "Contrary to what to you and I might have thought, Rogue is a lot older than we've assumed."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," he said, pulling his thoughts away from the mailman who had now delivered a certified letter to a certain southern belle, and was now driving away, "now, if you will excuse Scott but, I better get back to the barbeque before Hank and Logan go at one another's throats— _again_." Xavier paused at the door, glancing at Scott. "Would you be joining us?"

"No, I don't think so."

Hunger ultimately became the victor. The mouth watering aroma of steaks, burgers, hot dogs roasting on the grill wetted Scott's appetite to point he could no longer remain cooped up inside the house. In earnest steps, he marched down the hall, intent on making a plate before he raging hormones and teenage appetites annihilated the buffet table.

"Rogue?" he cocked his head, curious to the lovely brunette sitting on the staircase of the main foyer. A yellow envelope lay discarded on floor. Clenched in her small hands were sheets of papers. Documents of some sort. It was obvious to him she was crying for he could the quivering intake of breath, a cracked voice as she spoke to herself, and hands that flew furiously to mop tears he couldn't see. He went to her, bending down. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," she squeaked, her southern accent thick and strained; the white platinum streaks bouncing against her face as she shook her head.

"Rogue, please," he urged, placing a hand on her knee, "talk to me."

"My parents don't want me anymore." Tears spilled down her face as she crumpled into a mass of anguish. Moved, Scott took her in his arms; overwhelmed at how good it felt to hold her. They remained in each other's arms for a while before she squirm free, jerking her head, and huffing. She sifted through the papers staring at the resentful word and swallowed.

"I wrote to them after you guys rescued me from Magneto. I thought in the weeks after I left they might want to…well care to know I was okay. I—I wasn't totally disappointed when they didn't write back. It hurt but I gave them more time to accept the face I was a mutant. I wrote, even phoned I—I never expected this!"

Scott gathered the papers to himself grateful, despite the situation, he and Rogue were carrying some kind of conversation. He settled next to her and breezed through the letters. He was always a fast reader. His lips tightened as he read brutal words no parent should ever tell their child and then settled on a birth certificate and papers of adoption.

Shock hit him hard.

"You're nineteen?" he gasped.

"I knew I was adopted," she wiped a tear. "I was left on my parent's doorstep. I guess mom and dad weren't too sure how old I was when they found me, so, they must've guessed. But if they had no record of me, how did they get my birth certificate?"

"Someone…must of…gave it to them," Scott replied, shelled shocked. Unable to grasp the meaning of the situation, particularly, how Rogue had leap frog three years in matter of seconds. This must've been what the Professor was stressing in his own allegorical way.

"But who?" Rogue shot to her feet, sniffing. "I—I—got to find the Professor."

"He's down by the pool enjoying the 'festivities'."

Rogue took a breath. "I don't want to go there. I'm not in a celebrating mood." She proceeded to go back to her cottage and curl up under the covers while she poured out heart and wonder why the people who'd love her for a life time had chosen to disown her. So what, she was a mutant! Did it have to eviscerate everything they shared?

"We can get out of here," Scott said, getting to his feet.

She cast him a sore look. "I don't think so."

"Rogue," Scott sighed. "I miss you. And even though I don't deserve it, I would at least like to be your friend…again…please."

"You hurt me terribly Scott."

"I know, but I'd like to explain."

"Why now? Why's it so important that you explain now?"

" 'Cause I can't get you out of my mind."

Rogue folded her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes. "This isn't because I'm no longer under age is it."

"No."

Roaring across the black asphalt, a metallic blue Aston Martin quickly placed some much needed distance between a mansion and two mutants desperate for an escape. Winding through the forest terrain, hugging in each curve that coiled and stretched, it wasn't long before Scott set the car onto a highway bound for the heart of New York. But when he missed their exit leading to Manhattan Island, Rogue began to question and wonder where exactly the fearless leader was taking them.

Her suspicion grew when he left the state and entered New Jersey, yet, never leaving the highway; cruising the long strip of road at 120mph. "This is kidnapping you know." She caught cheeky grin on Scott's face. "Why do you keep wearing that thing?"

"You're still wearing your gloves."

"Touché," she saluted with two fingers. She examined her surroundings. Auburn gold clouds hung in the sky as the sun began to set in the distant horizon. She could see the brilliant colors reflect in the ocean as the coast lay to her left. "Where are you taking me?"

"Far away from the madness," he smiled. "Do you mind?"

"No."


End file.
